Put Into Play
by Caster
Summary: Catherine discovers the lab rats have three fears: April, soccer, and diets. [DavidxNick]
1. Part 1

A/N: Written for the csilabrats challenge (April Is the Cruelest Month); please enjoy it and tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Not mine! Don't sue! -flails-

Put Into Play  
Part 1

April is the cruelest month, breeding  
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  
Memory and desire, stirring  
Dull roots with spring rain.

-_The Waste Land_, T.S. Eliot

It wasn't until Catherine was staring up at the sky that she discovered David Hodges was one hell of a soccer player. (On an unrelated note, Jacqui claimed he was pretty good at baseball and average at basketball and _sucked_ at football, but there was no denying David could beat them all at soccer with one hand tied behind his back.) She had never been aware of this before. To her, Hodges was a sarcastic, weird trace technician who knew where Greg stashed the coffee, thus making him invaluable. He was smart, definitely. He knew far too much about ridiculous subjects, such as Portuguese water dogs, but she never, ever suspected that he'd be any good at sports.

But now? Now she knew.

This became clear when a black and white ball flew out of nowhere, traveling towards her at the speed of light. Despite her quick reflexes and sharp investigative skills, the soccer ball still won the race; it hit her square on the chest before forcing her onto the ground within the span of three seconds. It was unexpected, of course; she'd barely been aware that anyone was even _playing_ soccer, much less assaulting people with sports equipment. Her back was against the soft grass, her arms were splayed out, and she was staring up at the sky, figurative Tweetie Birds flying around her head.

In the back of her mind, she was grateful that she hadn't been on the sidewalk, because concrete would've been much more uncomfortable to get thrown onto. Not only that, but she couldn't afford to have any injuries, because there was no such thing as a CSI with amnesia. With this in mind, she refused to let an inanimate object get the best of her. She promptly sat up despite a chorus of vaguely familiar voices in back of her, and grappled with the ground until she achieved quasi-verticality by sitting in a cross-legged position.

"No!"

Catherine sucked in a quick, startled breath before glancing around, wondering who was shouting with such a worried voice.

When it came right down to it, it wasn't just anyone who had pummeled her with sports gear; no student team was practicing and there weren't any college kids trying to put off studying with a few hours outside. As a matter of fact, no one under the age of twenty had let that ball go flying carelessly through the air. Catherine would know, because the moment her brain finally caught up with the worried cry of "No!", someone immediately forced her back onto the ground with a somewhat strong shove.

Her first reflex was to fight them, which was what she almost did. Being part of law enforcement gave her a view of the world that normal citizens often missed, so she knew exactly what a forceful shove could mean: a robbery, assault, sexual assault, or even death. She was ready to fight that possibility, mentally preparing to kick someone's ass right into the Desert Palm's ER. But even Catherine, strong of fist and even stronger of mind, knew when the need to protect one's self was vital.

And as Archie Johnson dropped to his knees and peered over her, making sure she was all right, Catherine realized he just wasn't much of a threat.

"Archie, what are you thinking? Are you trying to kill her?"

Catherine blinked, because that voice sounded suspiciously like Jacqui Franco's.

Archie's worried face was joined by that of Lindsey, Bobby Dawson, Ronnie Litre, and as suspected, Jacqui. Catherine opened her mouth to say something akin to a greeting and maybe even a request for a little personal space, but the five were already hovering over her like worried bees. It felt strange –surreal, even- to have them all on their hands and knees, looking down at her with concerned frowns. Was she dreaming? Maybe that fall really _did_ do something to her head.

"Catherine?" Bobby anxiously asked. "My goodness, we're so sorry-"

"We?" Ronnie echoed, incredulous as he turned to face the bullet tech. "I believe it was little Miss. Natalie Hodges who decided to give someone a brain hemorrhage."

Bobby shot the other man an annoyed look. "Well, there's no need to sound so _proud_."

"Proud? I'm _ecstatic_! She actually kicked the ball!"

Catherine made an irritated grunting noise, hoping her four co-workers and daughter would understand the rule of personal bubbles. But Jacqui was never one to be deterred or interrupted, so Catherine's hint was gone unheeded. "Before we go celebrating Natalie's near-homicidal soccer skills, care to explain why you bowled Catherine over for a second time?" the brunette asked, casting an exasperated look in Archie's direction. Catherine supposed she could give them an extra minute or two, because she was equally as interested to discover why Archie had suddenly took a page from _Football for Dummies_ and tackled her back onto the ground.

"I saw her go down. She could've had a concussion, and I read that people with concussions shouldn't try to sit up too soon," the young Asian answered, giving an embarrassed shrug.

"So giving Catherine _another_ concussion was your idea of helping?"

"I never claimed to be a First Aid expert."

Catherine wanted to point out that she couldn't really move anywhere if they insisted on peering over her, but she and Jacqui must have had a moment of womanly psychokinetic connection, because the brunette finished the conversation by saying, "Your heart was in the right place, Arch. Now use that brute strength of yours and help the lady up."

"Wait, shouldn't we make sure she's good to stand?" Ronnie asked, before looking down at Catherine again. "Catherine? How many fingers do you see?" He held up his hand and made a peace sign.

Catherine gave him an aggravated glare. This was ridiculous. "Would you give me some room?" she asked, having had enough.

"Sorry, the answer was 'two'," Archie replied. "Really, are you okay? Can you see straight?"

"Archie, I'm fine if you-''

"Did I kill her?" came another voice, a question with a tone one hundred times more terrified than that of the four technicians currently leaning over her. They made room so that a young girl, maybe eleven or twelve, could join them in their worried peering. She had big, muddy eyes with mid-back length hair tied in a pigtail. Her flushed face showed genuine concern as she slapped her forehead in an 'I'm so stupid' manner. Her nails were caked with dirt and her arms were filthy.

"You can't kill someone with a soccer ball, Nat," Archie replied, punctuating his confident declaration with a less-than-confident pause. "Can you? Catherine, I _really_ need to tell me how many fingers Ronnie's holding up."

"How do you expect the woman to speak when you're sucking up all her oxygen?"

Catherine heard the question, but noticed that neither the lab rats, the unfamiliar Natalie, nor Catherine's own daughter actually asked it. The voice, however, sounded incredibly familiar, and she had the impression that the simple day she'd craved –a slow Saturday with Lindsey- wasn't going to get any easier.

And then David Hodges leaned over her.

"Hey," he began, looking somewhat unimpressed, "You may have forgotten, but I'll be glad to remind you. Your name's Catherine Willows. You kick ass for a paycheck. A soccer ball should be child's play for you, so get up."

That seemed to give Catherine the opportunity she needed. She shot him a dirty look and flipped him off before quickly rising from her previously sprawled position. She usually wasn't so liberal with certain fingers, but honestly, _get up_? She was tempted to explain that getting up hadn't been an option, especially when over-anxious A/V techs made sure her supposed concussion didn't worsen by bowling her over again. Not only that, but having a group of non-medical professionals making her count fingers wasn't exactly helpful. Still, she knew they all meant well and didn't blame them. It was David who was pushing the envelope.

"She's fine if her middle finger's any indication," he announced, giving a rare grin at her rude hand gesture and nodding. Jacqui gave a snort before picking up the aggressive soccer ball and tossing towards the trace tech while Bobby stepped forward and collected Catherine's fallen purse.

"I bet you were hopin' to just spend a nice day with Lindsey, right?" he asked, wearing a hundred watt smile as he handed the handbag to her.

"I was," she replied, dusting off her rear end and making sure nothing from her purse had escaped. "It was going pretty well, as a matter of fact."

"Natalie might've gotten a little enthusiastic with the whole 'kicking a soccer ball' thing," Bobby apologized, sending the embarrassed girl another reassuring smile.

"That _was_ a great shot," David commented, looking rather pleased. He turned towards the young girl Catherine could only assume was Natalie. She, unlike David, seemed rather quiet and shy, shooting Catherine an apologetic look before latching her guilty eyes to the ground. Catherine briefly wondered how they knew each other until a memory of Ronnie's voice floated through her slightly hazy psyche. _I believe it was little Miss. Natalie Hodges who decided to give someone a brain hemorrhage._ The name danced across her mind as she mulled it over. She couldn't be David's daughter, but they seemed too close not to be related. Although Catherine wasn't a big fan of picking the obvious choice, she made a wild guess and figured Natalie had to be his niece. Her eyes weren't blue and her hair was a bit lighter, but there was something about her that reminded Catherine of certain infuriating trace technicians.

"It might've been a great shot for Nat," Archie retorted. "Not so much for Catherine."

David shrugged. "Semantics. It was still a decent kick."

Catherine shot the man a dark glare. Did he forget that she was authorized to carry around lethal projectiles? Had he overlooked the fact that she possessed in-depth knowledge of forensics? She could make deaths look like accidents in her sleep. She glanced at him again, briefly wondering whether he really _had_ forgotten those little facts. When he met her look with a small smirk, she knew there was no way he'd let those things slip his mind. She briefly considered reminding him that she sometimes signed his paycheck, but that didn't seem like much of a threat either. She resolved to use the only weapon at her disposal: niceness. Civility probably made him start melting into a steaming puddle while he screeched "what a world, what a world."

"Fancy meeting you here, Hodges," she began by way of a proper greeting.

"Why yes, a public park for absolutely _anyone_ to use. Who knew?"

"Care to tell me why you're assaulting usually-armed women with soccer balls?"

"First of all, _I_ didn't make the kick. Second of all, it was an accident. Third of all, the only thing owed to you is an apology, not an excuse. Frankly, I'm tempted to skip the apology."

"What a way to woo the boss, David," Archie sighed before turning to Catherine with a troubled frown. "Want to sit down? Need some water? I have some Tylenol if your head hurts."

"No, I'm fine," Catherine replied, giving the worried man a grateful smile. It was comforting to see that one of the crazies weren't completely soulless.

"Sure?" he pressed, pointing towards a bench covered in what she assumed to be their belongings. "It would only take me a second."

"I'm sure. As Hodges so eloquently pointed out, soccer balls from hell are the least of my worries."

"Then at least take a load off," Ronnie said, steering her towards their park bench anyway. Of course, it obviously wasn't _theirs_, but people seemed to understand that keeping clear of the insane group was a wise and prudent choice. Lunches, water bottles, and towels littered the seat; Ronnie graciously moved a few items around and made room for her to relax.

"So Catherine's allowed to sit down but I'm not?" Jacqui asked, wearing an exaggerated look of anger as she swiped a bottle from the blue cooler on the ground. "I'd cite sexism, but that doesn't seem to fit."

"It's not sexism," David replied, throwing his arm around her neck. "It's the fact that you've signed up for Natalie Hodges' Soccer Camp and Catherine hasn't. Really, you should feel honored."

"That's a load of crap."

"You can't blame me for trying."

"Yes I can."

"But you won't."

Jacqui gave a suffering sigh. "That's true," she agreed. "Besides, I take great joy in beating you at your own game."

He snorted. "Sure, Jacq. You were beating me with that _one_ goal you kicked this morning. I'm impressed."

"My team was winning."

"It wasn't."

"It so was! Ronnie, gimme the scores," Jacqui demanded, turning to face the older (and calmer) man. Ronnie, although reluctant to disagree with Jacqui, couldn't seem to lie lest he face David's wrath. Catherine felt sympathetic; Ronnie faced two superpowers that couldn't be quelled. It was a lose/lose situation for anyone caught in the middle.

"I'm gonna have to go with David on this one, Jacqui," he replied, pulling out a small notepad from his shirt pocket and flipping a few pages back. "The Dynamite's scored six points. The Vulcans have twelve. Three more goals and you'll be tied."

"Ronnie, you're a horrible referee. There has to be a mistake," Jacqui protested. David gave a small laugh of disbelief.

"You just don't want to admit defeat."

"Admit defeat? Whatever!" she retorted. "I'm ready when you are!"

She turned and marched onto the field, determination etched into every move. David followed her with his eyes, wearing a small smile of amusement before turning to Catherine.

"Sure you're okay?" he asked. Catherine's eyebrows nearly met her hairline. Was she hearing things? Was David Hodges concerned about her well being? Was he being nice? Considerate? Human?

"Positive," she answered, and he gave a slight nod.

"Glad to hear it," he replied before turning and pointing to Ronnie. "Don't be distracted by Catherine's charms. You're still the ref."

"Of course."

"That means paying attention."

"Right."

"And ignoring whenever Jacqui scores."

"Consider it done."

"I heard that!" Jacqui bellowed from her place in the field. David rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"You did not!" he called back. "You don't even know what we're talking about!"

"Considering you're involved, I doubt it's any good!" she retorted. He gave an irritated huff before heading out towards the field, tossing the ball to Jacqui who, in turn, gave it to Archie. Archie immediately began their next match.

Catherine was content not to speak for a few moments, trying to adjust herself to the unexpected turn of events. She and Ronnie were quiet as they watched the beginnings of the game. Archie and Bobby played as goalies while David, Jacqui, Natalie, and Lindsey were actually part of the action. Catherine briefly remembered some little fact from college –weren't there eleven players on each team, including goalies?- and she realized both teams were tragically understaffed. Jacqui was a pretty decent player, fuelled by her desire to defeat a certain man named David Hodges.

But it was hard to beat someone who went far beyond "decent."

David was absolutely fluid on the soccer field. He ran and turned and made it look effortless, almost graceful. Catherine wanted to murder the man; hadn't he claimed that he was "never good at sports"? Surely Sara wouldn't lie about something about that. She had heard him say it, so this hidden talent left Catherine reeling. She had a feeling he could be scoring goals left and right if he wanted to, but it was only a friendly training game for his niece, nothing competitive. Jacqui was a worthy opponent, but Catherine had a feeling he could beat her with his eyes closed. When had he learned all this?

"He's not half bad," Catherine commented, watching as David smoothly stole the ball from Jacqui. "I'm impressed."

"He went to boarding school," Ronnie explained, giving a small chuckle as Jacqui responded to the steal with some colorful words. "He learned most of it there. He enjoys it."

"Really? Does Natalie like it?"

Ronnie shrugged. "She likes it on days like these, but that girl has some serious anxiety issues. She once cried for getting a C on a math exam and when I say 'cry', I mean 'lock self in room and wish for death.' David had to draw her out with offerings of food."

"Harsh."

Ronnie merely shrugged again. "Anna's a perfectionist, know what I mean? She's signed Natalie up for soccer, piano, ballet, gymnastics, everything. And between you and me, Natalie's grandparents are real pieces of work. They like giving her the whole 'if you fail that sixth grade test, you'll never get into a good college' song and dance. David's been acting as a buffer the moment that girl was born."

"Grandma and grandpa sound like a nightmare," Catherine noted. "No wonder Hodges is so…"

"Unique?"

"That's not the word that comes to mind."

"It never is."

Catherine snorted in agreement before watching David and Lindsey tussle for the ball. She wanted to shout David a warning onto the field, something akin to _you'd better be damn careful with my daughter_, but he didn't seem to need any motherly cautions. He was incredibly vigilant with everything he did, toning it down when Natalie or Lindsey was involved and turning it up when Jacqui came into the picture.

The two continued to observe in a comfortable silence. Catherine was feeling less disoriented after her meeting with the sidewalk, and the day was pleasant with breezes and a non-scorching sun. She had planned to do whatever she could with Lindsey, considering her hours made it difficult to see her daughter. If Lindsey wanted to shop, then that's what they'd do. If she wanted to see a movie, Catherine was there. If she wanted to go learn underwater basket weaving, Catherine would be the first to sign up… as long as she could spend time with her only child. As it was, Lindsey seemed to be enjoying herself, vying for dominance out on the field. It was a losing battle, of course, but one she liked fighting.

Lindsey and David began scrapping for the ball; Lindsey made a swift kick, sending it away from him and towards Ronnie and Catherine's bench. Catherine knew the rules of their tiny match were almost nonexistent, so the whole 'out of bounds' thing wasn't necessary. As the ball rolled towards them, she rose and scooped it up.

"Sorry Cath!" Bobby called. "You're like a soccer ball magnet or somethin'!"

"Sure. You just wanted to see me flat on my back again!" she bellowed in return, tossing the object towards the group once more. Even from her seat, she could see Bobby turn an odd shade of red. Next to her, Ronnie laughed.

"I don't think that was Bobby's intent," he divulged, a knowing smile on his lips.

"That's always a man's intent," she easily responded. Surely Ronnie was aware that every thought a man had somehow related to sex, even in a fragmented, distorted sense. He _should_ know, anyway, considering he was a man himself.

"Bobby's partner couldn't make practice today, but he's usually hanging out with us."

Catherine's immediate thought went to 'girlfriend', and then the bullet tech's gold wedding band caught her eye as it flashed in the Las Vegas son. 'Girlfriend' was replaced with 'wife', but as usual, Catherine's ability to pick apart a puzzle kicked in. If Bobby was married to a woman, Ronnie wouldn't have hesitated to use the term _wife_. But he hadn't even mentioned anyone of the female persuasion, and Catherine's mind ground to a halt as she slapped her palm against her forehead in embarrassment. "Oh, God," she groaned before putting her hands against her mouth to amplify her voice. "Sorry Bobby!" she bellowed, slightly reassured when Bobby grinned from his place in the field, understanding the meaning behind her words, and waved before returning his attention back to the game.

"So, Bobby has… what, a civil union?" Catherine asked, leaning back into her seat and watching the game unfold before her.

"Yup," came the easy response. "Jeremy always likes to play out here, especially if that means time spent with Bobby. Speaking of which, Greg ought to be here any minute," Ronnie murmured, checking his watch. "That kid's gotta buy a new alarm clock."

"But if Greg's here, you'll still have an odd number of people," Catherine pointed out. Ronnie heaved a suffering sigh.

"That's where I come in. I'm not much good, but I've kicked a goal or two."

Catherine laughed at that, catching sight of Lindsey who was currently making her way across the field, ball in her possession and laughing with Natalie. Catherine was grateful for this; she hadn't always approved of her daughter's friends, but Natalie seemed decent enough despite having David for an uncle. And who knew she'd get so into soccer?

"Y'know, Linds seems to like Nat," Ronnie observed, turning his attention back to the woman next to him. "You can feel free to bring her along any Saturday. We're here nine to twelve."

"Why are you guys here anyway?" Catherine queried. "Just to help Natalie?"

"Well, it's April. Soccer season's coming up," Ronnie explained. "David begs, bribes, and blackmails us into helping her hone in her sports skills. We usually resist in the beginning, but it's so much fun that we miss it when the season ends. Besides, it gives us something to do on the weekends."

"I never knew Hodges had a niece," Catherine admitted, observing as the young girl awkwardly acquired the ball and gave it a swift kick, missing it with her foot. She and her uncle seemed to have the same smile, but their personalities were on polar ends of the spectrum. She had what appeared to be a moral conscious and even a small amount of guilt and humbleness. Catherine knew David had never even heard of the words.

"Anna usually drops Nat off when David isn't working overtime. I know this may surprise you," Ronnie explained, wincing as Natalie managed to miss the ball yet again. David patiently began to help her out. "But he adores that kid."

Catherine mirrored his smile as she followed Ronnie's gaze, watching David unwearyingly instruct Natalie on the finer points of soccer, such as kicking with actual _intent_. She tried once, then again, Jacqui cheering her on, until Natalie's foot finally connected with the ball.

It would have been a great shot, actually, if it hadn't veered left and right towards Ronnie and Catherine.

David let out a genuinely amused laugh as the two ducked simultaneously, shielding their heads with their hands while the ball flew over them and smashed again a tall oak ten feet behind their bench. Catherine heard the ball meet the trunk, and after a moment or two passed, finally loosened her posture while glaring at the maddening trace technician as he continued to snicker. Bobby tried in vain to hide his own amusement, but it was a lost cause as he doubled over in his own laughter.

She huffed, rising from her position on the bench before jogging to retrieve the ball. She then turned to Ronnie, slapped him on the knee, and said, "Today, you get the day off." He looked as though he wanted to ask what she meant, but she was up and running into the field before he could phrase the question. If she was going to get attacked, she was going to be playing while it happened; giving a small thanks that she decided to wear tennis shoes, she tossed the ball to Archie before joining The Dynamites.

…

Nick Stokes was attracted to men. That's all there was to it. He liked women as well, but he made a conscious effort to never evaluate it. He was acutely aware that analyzing his sexuality or attractions would only push him in the wrong direction; he'd feel inadequate somehow, or embarrassed, and he was far too exhausted to add self-loathing to the tall pile of problems he already balanced on his plate. He wasn't necessarily ashamed of his feelings, but he didn't advertise them on billboards. He was a pretty private guy, not to mention relaxed, and if his closest friends could accept him –Catherine, Warrick, Greg especially- then he was fine with who he was. Besides, he didn't really date anyway, so it was a moot point. What did it matter what your sexuality was if you never acted on it?

Regardless, Warrick and Greg were absolutely relentless. Warrick tried to con Nick into dating all of Tina's interested male friends while Greg heaped on the romantic advice. He appreciated their efforts –it was nice that they accepted him so openly- but he wasn't in any mood to date. Dating involved work. It involved problems and complexities and decisions, and Nick was getting pretty used to the bachelor life anyway. Needless to say, he had developed several ways to send Warrick and Greg in another direction, making them forget their current topic and start on something new. This trick never lasted long, considering they were both on his back by the next night, but it gave him a little more time to plot out his avoidant strategies.

But just because he didn't jump at the chance to date didn't mean he was a recluse. He enjoyed every moment spent in the company of his friends and co-workers, especially if they could kick back in the break room and steal some of Greg's coffee in the process. Although Nick was closer to his CSI companions, he still enjoyed an animated, bizarre conversation with Archie (sadly enough, Nick was starting to geek out over _Star Trek: The Next Generation_) or hearing how Bobby's significant other was doing. The lab rats didn't carry the best reputations (Greg's music had made sure of this), but they were a vibrant group of people that, if taken in small amounts, were definitely good for the soul.

Or so Nick thought.

Because, quite frankly, Catherine was giving them a muttered piece of her mind.

"You sure you're okay, Cath?" Nick asked, raising his eyebrows in Catherine's direction as he slid the Tahoe into a crime lab parking space. Nick remembered that she'd felt perfectly fine last Friday, but when Monday rolled around, she practically limped into the lab, collapsed onto a chair, and took whatever assignment Gil handed to her without complaint. Warrick and Sara had given her a concerned glance as well, but Nick knew something had to be wrong; she _never_ took a basic B&E without giving Gil a good talking to first.

That had been five hours ago, and it appeared as though Catherine was beginning to lose her will to lie.

"I keep saying yes, but my thighs disagree," she groaned, stretching out her legs as she exited the SUV. Nick quickly jumped from his own seat, closed the driver's side door, and hurried over to steady her. She gave a small laugh and shook her head.

"I exercised this weekend," she explained as they began a slow trek towards the crime lab's entrance. "My body's just beginning to realize it."

"What'd you do, climb Everest?" Nick asked, unable to believe a little exercise had turned Catherine into an arthritic.

She grimaced as they reached the front door, Nick offering to carry Catherine's field kit and Catherine, for once, accepting. "Try soccer," she groused, pulling open an unusually heavy glass door with a grunt of effort.

She had always had a soft spot for Nick, even on the first day they met. His expression was so readable; if he was upset, it was clear. If he was near breakdown, it was clear. And if he was confused, then it was _definitely_ clear. One glance in his direction gave Catherine the distinct impression that she wouldn't be getting away with the story without a few details.

"Since when do you play soccer?" he asked. She gave a small sigh and bypassed each lab until the break room came into view. If Nick intended on following her, he ought to know that she needed some coffee ASAP, as well as some Tylenol and a little sustenance to get her through the night. Nick, ever the gentleman, opened the break room door for her before noticing that Jacqui was occupying a corner table. He shot her a big smile and Jacqui made an effort to smile back, but her mouth was full of salad. Actually, her entire plate was covered in green, leafy vegetables. He paused for a moment, giving the plate a puzzled look before glancing towards the woman who was vacuuming off its contents with her mouth.

"Hungry?" he asked, baffled by her 'I haven't eaten in a week' behavior.

"I'm on a diet," she replied around a mouthful of lettuce. He fought a smile as he made a beeline for the coffee maker. It was a well-known fact that Jacqui was _always_ on a diet, most of which were forgotten around the middle of the month; Bobby and Ronnie would end up dragging her away from the vending machine and Archie would start reciting nutritional facts of chocolate bars to get her back on track.

"So which diet is this again?" Nick queried while pouring something (presumably coffee) from the pot and into his worn Texas A&M mug. "I know you were on low fat for a while, then low calorie, then low carb. Is this the Rabbit Diet?"

"I like to call it the April Diet," Jacqui replied, and Nick turned just in time to see her stuff another forkful of lettuce between her lips. "You have no idea. It's the month Natalie gets going for soccer, and I love helping her practice, but God, it's killing me." She took a long swallow of water. "I gotta get fit, buy some new sports clothes, eat healthy. I haven't had a candy bar in a week." Another forkful doused in fat free ranch dressing. "Not only that, but Natalie sucks at soccer. We all know this. _She_ knows this." More water. Nick was tempted to suggest she slow down, but the woman seemed to be on a roll. "April is the cruelest month, Nick. Remember that. Avoid April at all costs."

Nick laughed, truly amused by the woman in front of him as he poured Catherine a cup of coffee as well. Jacqui was such a rarity: strong but not overbearing, funny without being intentional, sparkling in a muted, engaging manner. He didn't even bother to mention that he had no idea who Natalie was or what soccer had to do with anything. Catherine, on the other hand, seemed to be able to decipher Jacqui's rant into English, understanding everything she said with stark clarity.

"How's Natalie doing, by the way? Any better at her after-school practices?"

"Her coach claimed she scored a goal on Wednesday," Jacqui replied, taking a breather from the food shoveling. "David was glad to hear it, but he has a feeling Coach Taylor was being a little liberal with the term 'goal.'"

"Yeah? How liberal?" Catherine asked, taking her own seat at the round table.

"Liberal as in Nat kicked the ball _towards_ the net, which is vast improvement. But a ball towards the net doesn't equal a goal, if you catch my drift."

"She still stinks at soccer," Catherine surmised. "Of course, listen to me talk. I only scored four points last time."

"Yeah, but you still have feeling in your butt," Jacqui pointed out. "I scored six and I can't feel anything past my shoulders."

"I can't believe you do this ever year," the strawberry-blonde muttered, shaking her head. Jacqui nodded and took in another mouthful of salad, and Nick had the strange suspicion that he was witnessing a true woman's conversation. He, being a man, didn't understand the meaning behind a single syllable they uttered, and yet both Catherine and Jacqui were able to communicate with ease. It had to be some sort of secret female language, but Nick didn't have the energy to try and translate it. Instead, he slipped into a chair next to Catherine, hoping the two women would focus on their alien conversation and let him take a rest.

"Hey," Jacqui said, turning to give him an expectant look. Nick knew his wish was pipedream. "You should come this time. Weren't you some sort of jock in high school?"

"That was football," Nick pointed out. "Soccer is a totally different game."

"Oh, come on. Catherine's already conned Warrick," the brunette insisted. "Besides, it would be good for you. When was the last time you got out?"

Nick paused for a moment, honestly unable to recall the last time he'd been anywhere except work, home, or the grocery store. Did stops at the gas station count? He struggled with his answer before the two women chorused a creepily perceptive 'hm.'

"That confirms it, Nicky Stokes. You're coming with me and Linds. You need to see the sun," Catherine decided with a resolute tone. He didn't like the sound of that.

"But-''

"You have no choice," Jacqui interrupted. "The Great Catherine Willows has demanded it from you. Ye shall play soccer or ye shall be fired."

Nick rolled his eyes, but knew there was no denying the two women when they wanted something from him. And really, why would he say no? He loved hanging out and having some fun, even if it was as simple as playing a soccer game in the park. With an over-dramatic sigh, he said, "Considering my job hangs in the balance, I guess I'll meet you there. When?"

"Nine o'clock on Saturday. Wear tennis shoes," Jacqui answered.

Nick nodded in confirmation, almost excited to spend time with his co-workers outside of the lab. Catherine and Jacqui shared a victorious smile while Nick put his mug to his lips. He wrinkled his nose as he caught a sniff of the liquid inside.

"Jacqui," he began, "Who made this coffee?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," she replied, swallowing a cherry tomato. Nick grimaced.

"Sara?"

"Grissom."

"And you were going to let me _drink_ this?"

"Absolutely," she replied, laughing. "I have to get my entertainment somewhere."

…

Saturday morning found Nick driving down to the park, relaxed in his black t-shirt and jeans. Despite that Nick knew the intricate game of football more than he ever knew soccer, he was still more than ready to beat Warrick. (He never had the intention of making this competitive, but Warrick's gloating from the day before was too much to bear.) He didn't live far from where they practiced and he briefly wondered what he would have done today if Jacqui and Catherine hadn't invited (or forced, depending on who you asked) him to exercise his nearly nonexistent soccer skills. Probably nothing exciting: clean his apartment or go shopping or… something. He let out a small groan. When had he become so boring? Either way, he was thankful that only his friends would be there to see him make a fool of himself. Nick knew he was going to look ridiculous kicking around a ball with two left feet, but Catherine cited a dire need for extra players, no matter how terrible they were. He knew he had no other option but to sign up.

Nick rolled in front of the park's gates and found a parking space before cutting off the truck's ignition. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't really sure who was going to be playing today. Warrick and Catherine, certainly. Lindsey, Jacqui, and Greg. Archie? Perhaps. Nick supposed he'd have to actually get out of the truck to find out, and with a small sigh, that's exactly what he did. He wanted to be there and see everyone outside of work, but why couldn't they try something like football? Yeah, football sounded good. At least he was halfway decent at that.

He wandered down the trail and towards the green field where two goalie nets were set up. The field itself was empty, but it was hard to miss the familiar group of people gathered around both a park bench and a large, spread out blanket. Nick was surprised for a moment; not only was it the entire team minus Grissom, but Bobby and Ronnie were also joining in. For some reason, Nick felt better and more enthused as he approached them, drawn into the laughter and light conversation.

"Hey Nick!" Bobby called, giving his friend a patented-Dawson smile as Nick approached. Nick returned it before noticing an unknown man standing next to him. He had dark hair, a handsome face, and relaxed posture. Nick quickly guessed Jacqui's boyfriend, but Jacqui and he didn't appear particularly close. Sara's? Catherine's, even?

"Hey," he returned. "Something smells great."

"Yeah, we figured you guys deserve a 'thank you' for helping out, so Ronnie brought sausages. Free lunch."

"That makes getting up worth it, if you ask me!" Greg piped in, nudging Nick's arm with his elbow. "I'll have you know that Ronnie's an expert cook. His leftovers are my entrées."

"Greg, you still eat ramen. _Everyone's_ leftovers are your entrées."

"Meh. What do you know?"

"Hey Nicky, I want you to meet someone," Bobby announced, quickly cutting off what was sure to be a pointless argument between friends. There seemed to be general relief at this, because when Greg got going, there was no stopping him. Greg didn't mind this; he merely smiled, as though aware of what the bullet tech was going to say next. Bobby indicated the stranger Nick had noticed moments before with a smile. "This is Jeremy."

"Well, it's nice to meet you," Nick replied, holding out his hand. "Any friend of Country's is a friend of ours."

Bobby cleared his throat and held up his left hand. A gold ring shone in the light and Nick blushed at the new fact. Oops.

"Well, it's nice to meet you anyway, friend or otherwise," Nick continued, not missing Bobby's thankful expression.

"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way," Jacqui began, and Nick had to grin at her tone; she was all business. From what Catherine had told him, she was determined to one day beat David Hodges at… well, anything. It was clear how unwavering she was to accomplish this. "It's time to break into teams. Who wants to be on The Dynamites?"

There was a silence and she crossed her arms, incensed. "Fine. Who shall I _force_ to be on The Dynamites?" She paused and then pointed to Natalie. "The kid with the cute smile. Get over here. Your turn, Captain Dave."

David rolled his eyes. "Please don't make me say the team name."

"You ought to know that I would _never_ make you do something you don't want to… unless it causes you irritation and misery. Now say that team name loud and proud!"

David made a face. "The Vulcans," he admitted. "You can thank Archie for _that_ brilliant moment in sports history. Who's in?"

"Me!" called Greg, running up and slinging his right arm around David's shoulder. "And may I add what an honor it is to be here?"

"Add whatever you want, but no one's going to listen."

"Ouch."

"I try."

Jacqui grinned as Catherine walked over and slung her own arm around the other woman's neck. "We women stick together."

"Is that a challenge?" Archie asked, grinning playfully and joining Greg. "We'll take you on."

"Whatever, geek boy," Catherine returned, before looking into the small group and catching Wendy's eye. "Want to?" she asked. Wendy instantly nodded and joined them, indicating for Lindsey to follow. The younger girl did so without hesitating.

"Bobby, Nicky, I know it's against Southern manners to beat the ladies, but come on," Greg wheedled, wearing an excited expression as he waved the two gentlemen towards David's team.

"Since you insisted, G," Nick replied, heaving a put-on sigh. "I hope you know beating a lady really is against everything we've ever been taught."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," David muttered, "Considering there aren't any ladies present."

Jacqui gasped theatrically, giving her friend a glare for good measure, before pointing a finger towards Sara. "You, here. Now."

"I call Nick's team," Warrick said.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "We know. Watching each other's back and all. It's a guy thing."

Only Ronnie and Jeremy remained; the two glanced at each other, and before Ronnie could even speak, the other man was by Bobby's side in an instant. Ronnie's eyes widened in dread before he accusingly pointed the spatula in Jeremy's direction.

"You let me get stuck on the girl's team?" he asked, incredulous.

"We aren't just the girl's team," Jacqui corrected. "We're the _winning_ team."

"Says who?" queried Archie. "David's only beat you a million times."

"Has not."

"Our scoreboard says otherwise."

"The scoreboard is just a minor detail," she retorted. "You almost finished being a domestic goddess, Ron?"

"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses," Ronnie muttered, placing the food onto a large platter to cool and making sure the grill's flame was out. "It's not like we're gonna run out of daylight."

Bobby laughed at Ronnie's tone before the older man grabbed the soccer ball from the bench and the fourteen headed out onto the field. Although Natalie played on a school team who actually followed the rules of the game, the lab rats were more lax; Nick knew there had to be a certain way the ball was put into play, but it was obviously some sort of hassle because no one seemed to be bothering with it. They had no desire to concern themselves with details when there was scoring to be done, and so Ronnie marched to his goalpost, looked out into the waiting crowd, and asked, "Ready?"

Before waiting for an answer, he lifted the ball and tossed it into the field. "Three, two, one, go!"

The ball landed at Greg's feet, and although he didn't appear too confident at what he was doing, he cursed Ronnie and began running nonetheless.

"Thanks a whole lot, Ronnie," he called, "For giving it to the guy who has no idea what he's doing!"

Although Greg was too busy to see, Ronnie merely gave him a self satisfied smile –_That'll teach you to put me on the girl's team_- and nodded. In reality, Ronnie didn't mind it so much; he had a wife and two daughters, so he knew exactly how to handle a woman. Besides, what man (married or otherwise) would complain about being surrounded by lovely ladies anyway?

"You're welcome!" he bellowed back, and simply watched the game unfold from the goalie net.

Greg had made it all of twenty feet before Sara swooped in. Quite frankly, Greg feared her when it came to events such as this; she was fiercely competitive, not to mention talented in sports. Greg, on the other hand… not so much. Brown eyes met playful brown, and two pairs of long legs began to battle for the ball. It was almost like a dance as Greg tried to keep the ball while Sara tried to steal it. She stabbed his ankle with her toe and he, not to be deterred by the fact she was a woman, stabbed right back.

"Hey Greg, over here!"

Greg recognized Archie's voice, but Sara wasn't fazed. He knew he'd have to resort to other, sneakier means.

"You know," Greg panted, "I've always hoped we'd end up like this. Hot, sweaty-''

"Ryan would kick your ass if he heard that," she gasped back, making a kick for the ball. Greg countered it with a kick of his own, the ball not moving between them, but as she prepared for another go, Greg saw the opportunity: her right leg was up, poised for a kick, and he knew it was now or never. Greg booted it from right beneath her and towards Archie with strength he never knew he had. Archie successfully gained control of the sphere and began speeding towards the appropriate end of the field; in response to this, Greg punched his fists in the air.

"Thank you Las Vegas!" he yelled before following Sara's path as she raced to get the ball from Archie. David met Bobby's eyes and the two exchanged knowing grins; David had allowed Archie to name the team 'The Vulcans' for one reason: Archie could _run_. And was David going to deny his best player that one tiny joy if it meant keeping Archie on his side? Of course not. As David watched Archie zoom towards the goal net, Ronnie looking appropriately horrified at what he was up against, he didn't regret their ridiculous team name one bit.

By the time Sara had caught up with him, Archie already made a kick towards the goal… and scored.

There was a decidedly masculine cheer of victory, minus Ronnie. Greg and Archie high-fived while Wendy stood tall, defiant, and a bit exasperated.

"That's been what, sixty seconds?" she asked, slightly aghast that The Vulcans had already scored two points. "Can't we call foul?"

"For what, kicking your butt?" Greg mocked, a playful grin on his face as he ducked Jacqui's (semi) good-humored fist. Wendy stood even taller.

"I can see I'm forced to dive deep into my memory and get back all my high-school soccer days," she muttered. "I hope you know what you've unleashed."

"An angry Wendy Simms? We're terrified," Warrick broke in, casting a calm look towards the young woman. "Are you gonna swab us to death?"

"That's it," she growled. "Hey Ronnie! Put that ball into play!"

Ronnie immediately obliged, tossing it into the field. Wendy, fuelled by her determination, was quick to get possession of it. It appeared as though she was the female version of Archie, retaining the ability to practically fly when she ran. Her blue tennis shoe bumped into the ball as she made her trek across the field, narrowly avoiding Greg's attempt to gain control.

Her newfound fervor wasn't good news.

Warrick and Bobby exchanged surprised looks before Bobby inclined his head at her quickly approaching form, as if to ask _Ready_? Warrick merely grinned in response, because he was always ready for a good challenge.

Wendy quickly shot the ball over to Sara, who, upon seeing that Archie was ready to prove himself again, shot it off to Catherine. Catherine quickly took control, the chorus of "Go go go!" echoing behind her. Her strawberry blonde hair flew around her flushed face as she made it an extra ten feet before being intercepted by what appeared to be a tall wall. In reality, it was Warrick, whose right foot was between hers, trying to nudge the ball from her and to whoever was waiting behind. Her initial reaction was to not allow this to happen. Perhaps she could have gotten away with it, but she immediately felt a presence back of her, and another foot –she recognized the shoe as Bobby's- met Warrick halfway and gained ownership for the fought-for ball.

"Thanks Cath," he laughed. She let out a frustrated growl before turning and pursuing him. Bobby, as though predicting her actions, swiftly kicked it to a waiting Nick. Warrick had already abandoned an irritated Catherine to help his friend, who was managing to make it across the field with Archie and Bobby's assistance. Wendy, Jacqui, and Lindsey were on their tails, watching the ball with hawk eyes as they moved with them, just waiting for Nick to make a faulty pass.

Jacqui moved in for the kill. She jumped in front of them and they began their battle to see who would get possession next. She made a move for it, trying to force it from between Nick's ankles. Nick glanced up; Wendy was on Warrick's tail and Sara was carefully watching Greg. Nick loosened his posture, allowing for Jacqui to obtain the sought object, but the moment it was loosely beneath her foot, Nick made a swift kick to the left, stealing the ball from under her again.

It would have been a spectacular move had Lindsey not run up and gained ownership of it. Archie groaned in playful disappointment while Jacqui and Wendy urged Lindsey on. She quickly followed their insistence, turning and heading back the way Nick came. He made a move to take it back, but she was quicker, kicking the ball in front of her, leaping away from Nick's foot, and then running around him in order to reach the ball again. Sara gave an appreciative whistle.

Greg was fast to pursue her, taking a page from Archie's book and moving quickly. Within the span of about forty feet, Greg had managed to reach her and jump in front, preparing to try and take back what was rightfully his.

"Hey hon, over here!"

Lindsey heard the distinct sound of her mother's voice, and hastily kicked the ball towards her. Catherine acquired it within the moment and began speeding towards where Jeremy manned the goal post.

A tornado of male voices shouted in protest, and she knew she had most of the night shift's male population on her heels. She urged herself to go faster, glancing up only once to see Jeremy's determined expression. She stopped ten feet away from him, and knew he had to be a somewhat decent goalie. His body was prepared; his back bent and arms were out, ready to stop the ball from entering his domain. Catherine's mind raced. He would certainly stop the ball on its predicted course, but maybe if she…

She shifted and went through the motions of attempting a goal. She took her foot and whipped it back before kicking it forward and towards the left. Jeremy, assuming she was trying to sneak the ball through the open spot, made a quick move towards the area.

But Catherine's foot had never connected with the black and white globe; she did a mental victory dance, pleased that she had faked Jeremy out, and made a real kick towards the spot he had just abandoned. She watched it roll quickly, getting closer and closer-

And suddenly, David appeared.

Catherine gave a cry of objection as the ball bumped against his ankle, not making it to the net. It was still in play and, even worse, in The Vulcans' possession. She barely saw his celebratory grin as he raced past her, a blur of a man, and left Jeremy wearing a relieved expression. Catherine whirled to follow him.

This meant war.

Although he wasn't as fast as Archie, he was incredibly evasive. Sara ran up to him, and he stopped dead still, kicking the ball back about twelve inches before turning and making a semi-circle around her, flying past the surprised brunette and towards the invisible half-way line.

Wendy was the closest Dynamite player to him, and wore an expression of resolve as she approached him. She leapt about two inches in front of him and froze, resulting in what she hoped to be a dizzying collision on his part. David _did_ run into her, but wasn't fazed; he made a short kick to the right, moving the ball from Wendy's area of potential possession, and managed to brush past her when she tried to follow his path.

He flew past the halfway line, but knew what was waiting for him on the other side: Sara, Lindsey, Natalie, and Jacqui. There was no way he could make it past those four without some help; he took a quick glance around and saw Archie prepared to accept the responsibility. David, relieved, passed him the ball, losing the attention of his pursuers. With this in mind, he zoomed towards where Ronnie stood waiting before the net.

Sara and Wendy were on Archie like ants to a picnic; Archie, foretelling this predicament, quickly shot the ball to Bobby, who quickly shot it to Warrick, who, like Archie, was a decent runner. It was almost like chess; unwelcome pieces on the wrong side of the board, getting eaten up by knights and bishops on the opposing side.

"Yo, Warrick!" Nick called. Warrick stopped and attempted to see where Nick had just called his name. He spotted the Texan between Sara and Wendy and knew there was no way he could ever make a successful pass. Nick grinned, aware of what his friend was thinking.

"Behind you!" he elaborated, and because the two trusted each other implicitly, Warrick immediately made a back-kick in the opposite direction. He didn't know who was waiting, but he knew Nick wouldn't cop him out. He turned to see who had caught it; before anyone knew what was happening, Greg was following Warrick's previous actions and racing towards the goal once more, ball at his feet. Wendy shouted in protest, and Greg knew he'd be followed within the moment. He made a swift lob towards a waiting David.

David easily caught it and had to move all of five feet before being at an appropriate length to try and make a goal. Ronnie was concentrating, and David, like Catherine, knew the rival goalie was prepared.

And he, like Catherine, faked him out.

He went through the motions of making a kick on an unintended route; Ronnie followed the direction, but realized his mistake too late. He hurried back to his original side, but David had already made a quick boot towards the net, moving with flexibility and intent.

A Vulcan cheer went up when the score was made. Archie went up to give David a high-five and, surprisingly, so did Warrick. Greg did a silly end zone dance, uncaring that a soccer field had no end zone to speak of while Ronnie merely shook his head and pulled out a tiny notepad from his shirt pocket to record the victory.

"Cheater!" Natalie called. David lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" he asked, taking a few steps towards her. "I don't know, goober face. It looked pretty fair to me."

"But-!"

"Before you answer that, tell me this: what are you feeling right this very moment?"

"Um… anger and hatred?" she innocently replied, phrasing it in the form of a question.

"That's music to my ears. The secret to this is to channel your anger and hatred towards the ball, know what I mean?"

"Yup."

"Good. Now go forth and be the spiteful girl I know you can be."

Natalie did exactly that, but two hours later, the Dynamites were still losing. Their moves were sluggish and slow, and it was definitely time for a break. Nick was grateful for the breather as well, and flopped onto the bench, utterly exhausted. He felt Bobby plop down right next to him.

"Only four more weeks," Bobby reminded him, grinning as though he could read Nick's mental question of _Why did I agree to this again?_

Nick took a deep drink of water while unconsciously watching David give his niece a kiss on the top of her head, telling her what a great job she was doing.

TBC.


	2. Part 2

A/N: Enjoy! And –uh- ignore any mistakes. As a matter of fact, we should _embrace_ the mistakes. Oh yes.

Put Into Play  
Part 2

Two weeks later, Nick didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that they'd be getting the weekend off. Truth be told, the mornings spent in the park were relaxing, letting him blow off steam as well as getting free food courtesy of Ronnie, their designated chef. But he had to remember they were training for Natalie, which would imply that she'd be playing in real games with teammates who weren't two decades older than her. He supposed the CSIs weren't expected to go; they were fun to hang out with and great teammates when it came to soccer, but for Catherine or Warrick or Nick to attend one of Natalie's official matches would mean something had fused between the lab rats and the investigators, that they were bonded somehow, and were more than just co-workers.

No one had any problem with that.

The Saturday morning of the game was surprisingly cool and crisp for Nevada as Warrick and Nick hauled out of the truck, Nick holding two twelve-can boxes of soda while Warrick balanced several bags of napkins and potato chips. The ever-present barbeque was there, emitting puffs of white steam and a scent that made Nick's mouth water; Greg was trying to salvage some burgers, Ronnie coming to the rescue, while Archie was rooting around for some paper plates. Nick and Warrick exchanged amused expressions; somehow, they were always able to find where their group was located by following a trail of subtle cursing, good smells, and possessed soccer balls. Sure, it was crazy and probably a little unsafe, but neither man could force himself to mind.

Nick couldn't fight the knowing smile as he approached them, ignoring the few looks they received from surrounding attendees. As Ronnie and Greg began Operation: Salvage Burgers, Archie and Bobby began setting out white disposable plates and plastic forks while Jacqui sat chomping down on yet another bowl of leafy green vegetables.

"How's that salad?" Nick asked, clearly teasing as Warrick gave her a friendly nod before breaking off to go see whether he needed to make another napkin run. Jacqui sent the Texan a piercing glare and wiped off a small drop of fat free Italian dressing from her lips.

"I'd like it better with a baked potato and some chocolate cake," she grumbled, emitting a wistful sigh as her mind cataloged mental images of cake, ice cream, and fudge. (She could live without the cherry if need be.) She took a long drink of her water before glancing longingly at Nick's Coke boxes and the chips Warrick had left with him. The Texan winced and held up one of the soda containers.

"Wanna share one?" he asked. "You're making me feel guilty."

"I couldn't," she replied, turning back to her rabbit food. "I made a commitment. I have twenty bucks on this."

"You made a commitment? With who?"

"David," she growled in response. "He bet I couldn't stick to it until May, and I, naturally competitive, claimed I could. I'm winning so far."

"Good for you, Jacqui," Nick replied, setting his food on the other side of him, hoping she wouldn't be tempted to indulge in Coke and fried potato crisps. "I think that's very admirable."

She snorted. "You're a real piece of work, Nick Stokes. Is there a time you _aren't_ sweet and supportive?"

"Actually, I get kinda cranky when Greg or Warrick try to control the radio station in the car," he replied, smiling when she gave a bark of laughter.

"I'm sure the battle between country, rock, and rap's a scene to behold," she sniggered, taking another gulp of her Dasani. "I hate to break this to you, but all three of you have musical tastes that make me wanna gag."

"Oh really? And what do you consider to be worthy of your stereo set?"

"Are you kidding me? Abra Moore and Alanis Morissette rock my world."

"No Queen? Ozzy? Duran Duran? The Who?" came a voice from behind, and before they could look up, David took the seat on Jacqui's left, reaching over and stealing a drenched lettuce leaf. He popped it in his mouth, chewed for a moment, and then shook his head. "You'll never make the entire month, Jacq. This stuff tastes like crap."

Nick was still getting adjusted to having random conversations with the lab rats outside of work, which included having David Hodges plop down across from him without wearing a blue lab coat and holding a manila folder of some sort. Without lab coats, they all seemed so much more… human, maybe? Of course, Nick was sure the techs held their own opinions. Jacqui had undoubtedly noted how much more _human_ the CSIs seemed without their field kits and police vests. Nick shifted in his seat and compulsively reached for a Coke, pulling the tab open and listening to the satisfying 'pop'. He glanced up to say something else, but forgot his intent when he met a pair of blue eyes.

Nick was surprised to see that David looked away immediately, appearing almost uncomfortable. The Texan wanted to crack a joke of some sort, but came up empty and took a sip of his drink instead, hoping to alleviate his suddenly dry mouth. Even weirder than hanging out with the lab rats was the feeling of discomfort that had suddenly settled within him. He was grateful Jacqui acted as a buffer.

"Excuse me, but I _will_ make it. And when I do, you'll owe me a Jackson, which I'll then frame and have insured."

"Not if Stokes keeps tempting you with what looks to be unhealthy soda and chips," he responded, glancing up at Nick again. "Are you enticing her? Because you'd be saving me twenty bucks."

"That's mean, Hodges," Nick replied. "I'd never have offered if I'd known you were in on this somehow."

"So you want me to lose?"

"Um, duh?" Nick replied, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "It's nice to see you're finally catching on."

"And he delivers the stinging retort," David narrated. "How will our hero ever survive that one?"

Jacqui took another bite of her salad, slowly adjusting to the lackluster flavor, and quickly glanced towards David. She and the rest of their little freak group knew all about David's crush; as a matter of fact, they'd known about it for the last two years. Bobby always suggested casual ways of asking Nick out while Archie and Jeremy insisted he "make a move already." Jacqui wasn't afraid to admit she not only agreed with them and often gave David a gentle push (or violent shove, depending on who you asked) in the right direction. But they all had to give him credit for his phenomenal ability to ignore them and pine from afar, although David made it quite clear that he did _not_ pine.

He simply admired.

…

Ronnie once divulged that one of the highlights of soccer season was that Jacqui would scream herself hoarse at a game and wouldn't be able to talk for at least two hours afterwards. It was one hundred and twenty minutes of blissful silence, he claimed, not that Nick dared to verbally agree with him. He knew exactly where Ronnie was coming from, seeing as he grew up with five sisters, but to concur would be suicide. Quite frankly, life was looking too good to have it taken away by an irate Jacqui Franco.

This didn't change the fact that Jacqui was now communicating with hand gestures.

Nick laughed and shook his head while she acted as straw boss, pointing to various items and then to the cars those items belonged in. The Cokes went with Nick, seeing as he'd bought them, while the grill had to be packed into the back of Ronnie's SUV.

As Nick folded up their blanket and put aluminum foil over their leftovers, he made a mental note to give Warrick the details of the match. Natalie hadn't scored a single point, but when she stole the ball three times and managed to pass it to a player who then made a goal, Jacqui, Archie, and Bobby nearly had a heart attack due to joy. It was clear that they weren't used to her making so many progressive moves, and considering she helped win the game with her interceptions and passes, they were inexorably pleased. In contrast to Archie, Greg, and Jacqui's loud supportive shouting from the stands, Jeremy, Bobby, and Ronnie were more subdued. They cheered and chanted encouraging words, but they (unlike Greg) hadn't exactly made a homemade flag that read 'The Devils Are #1!' They were equally happy for her, though, that much was obvious.

Nick was both surprised and unsurprised to see that David was the least vocal of them all. Even as Catherine was chanting 'go go go!' under her breath, David merely watched in silence as Natalie began tussling an opposing player over possession of the ball. If Nick didn't know him, he'd guess that David was almost unenthused to be there. That's how it probably looked to a stranger, anyway, but when the game finished and Natalie ran up to David, he caught her in his arms and spun her around despite the fact she was a hot and sweaty mess. That's when Nick knew for certain that David was her biggest fan… he just wasn't much for being loud about it.

"So you need a lift, right?" came Greg's familiar voice, and Nick tore his eyes from where David and Natalie stood to see Greg grinning at him. Nick wanted to ask what the Cheshire expression was for, but Greg didn't allow him any time to speak. "'Cause I hitched a ride from Jeremy and Bobby, and Jacqui and Wendy came together. My best bet would be Ronnie, although he's not exactly a hop, skip, and jump away from your house. Have you tried asking Archie?"

The reason Nick had been cataloging the game's events in the first place was that Warrick, his ride, had gotten an SOS from Tina and had to leave early. Nick had given him a vague promise of "I'll get someone to give me a lift," but that had been an hour ago and he doubted anyone had heard him. He knew no one would mind carpooling, but at the same time, he didn't want to put them out. He had pretty much decided to just call a cab.

"Hey Nick!"

Before Nick or Greg even knew what was happening, Natalie had slung her arms around Nick's waist. "Did you see me? I got the ball three times! Coach Taylor even said I did a good job!"

"From what I hear, you always do a good job," Nick replied, stooping to return the hug. "You were great out there."

This seemed to amp her glee up even more. "Thanks! I couldn't have done it without you and Greg and everyone. I wanted to thank Warrick, too. Have you seen him?"

Greg shook his head. "The wife called with car troubles. He had to bail early, but he wished you good luck. Guess it worked, huh?"

"Totally!" she agreed. "I guess I'll tell him next Saturday. And hey, I hear you need someone to take you back home. Where do you live? There's enough room in uncle David's car for all of us."

As Nick finished up with the large blanket, he idly listened to Greg give her directions. He seriously doubted that she knew the roads well enough to understand where Nick lived, and that was made clear when she gave a helpless shrug at Greg's words. She didn't usually live in David's part of town unless she was staying with him, which she currently was, but there was no way she could map out Vegas in her head, much less try to deduct whether Nick's house would be too out-of-the-way.

"All I know is that we live just before the bridge," she informed, pulling at the hem of her shirt in thought. "But I'm sure uncle David'll be more than happy to take Nick anywhere he wants to go."

Greg's smile merely widened, and Nick had no desire to discover what was running through his pal's perverse mind. "I'm sure that's an offer Nick'll take him up on, Nat," he replied. Nick valiantly resisted the urge to bind him up in duct tape and leave him for the coyotes.

"Yeah? Well, I'll go get him then," she happily responded, obviously missing the double meaning behind Greg's words. The two watched her bound away before Nick turned to give one of his supposed-best friends a glare.

"What the hell was that supposed to mean?" he asked, hoping Greg could hear the iciness in his voice. Greg shot him an innocent look in response.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're up to something, I can tell, and whatever it is-''

"That hurts, Nicky. Seriously. I wasn't implying anything, you just _thought_ I was. Maybe you like what I was saying."

"Greg, you were implying that I'm attracted to David Hodges. Care to explain that?"

"Sure. See, when two people like each other very much-''

"_Greg_."

"Okay, fine. So maybe I noticed that you two flirt. Badly. But you still flirt, know what I mean?"

"No, I _don't_ know what you mean. Since when does my being nice translate to flirting?"

Greg snorted and rolled his eyes. "Please. You and Warrick always used to make me take our evidence to him, and now you can't _wait_ to get into his lab."

"Oh, right. Not avoiding someone means you want to have their babies."

"Don't mock me, Nicky."

"But you make it so easy, G."

They were interrupted by the sound of Natalie's faraway voice; both turned to see her latched onto David's hand, pulling him along while happily going on about nothing in particular. At Nick's warning look, Greg let the subject drop for the time being.

It was almost… gratifying to see David so relaxed even as Natalie insistently tugged him in the direction of her choosing. Nick had always imagined that David would dislike kids, but either Nick had it all wrong or Natalie was just an exception. She got away with a lot of things –hugs, nicknames, hand holding- that no one else would even dream about attempting. It was a nice thing to see.

"Rumor is the David Hodges Taxi Service is open for business," David began as they finally arrived to where Nick and Greg stood.

"You don't have to," Nick insisted, ignoring Greg's chortle while fighting down a blush. Did Greg have to be so obvious? Looking back, that was probably his intent anyway. "I was just going to call a cab."

"Have fun with that," the other man responded, turning to walk back the way he came, assuming their conversation was over. Natalie, though, would have none of it, and jerked on his hand before giving him a disapproving look.

"Uncle David," she persisted, frowning. "There's lots of room in your car, and he lives just over the bridge. It wouldn't take us any time."

"Nat, I don't-''

Natalie let go of his hand and crossed her arms, staring at him with a frown. There was a silence as a small staring war proceeded to engage between niece and uncle; Nick watched, wondering where Natalie got her nerve, and figured it had to be a mix between David's sister and Jacqui. Those two women were authorities who could get anyone in line... even certain trace technicians. Another moment passed until David finally threw up his hands in defeat.

"What, do you want to _fight_ about it?" he asked her before turning to Nick and holding up a set of keys. "I'm offering, you're accepting. Let's go."

Nick was tempted to reiterate that David was under no obligation to do this favor, but merely said, "See you later, G," and gave Greg a parting wave as he followed David and Natalie towards a blue Honda.

"See ya, Nick," Greg replied, and then waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Our conversation isn't over."

Nick didn't know how to respond to that, so he chose to ignore it completely. He could almost _feel_ Greg's grinning face follow them to David's car, and Nick blushed even deeper.

David unlocked the doors with the keyless entry; Natalie immediately took the back seat, offering Nick shotgun, while David slid into the driver's side. Nick hoped a pleasant conversation would flow; if not between he and David, then at least between Natalie and her uncle. Nick didn't handle tense silences well, and although he tried not to try too hard, he knew he'd still end up going on about nothing of any importance. (It was a terrible habit picked up from Greg.)

But before anything could even be said, Natalie stuck her head between the two front seats.

"Music?" she hopefully asked.

"Depends," David replied, starting up the ignition. "Does it suck?"

"Nope," she responded, and David made a face as Natalie handed him a CD; he took one glance at the cover before emitting a gagging noise. Nevertheless, he opened it up, slipped the metallic disc into the car's CD system, and the aggressive guitar rift of _Take It Off_ quickly began. Nick watched David roll his eyes and he forced himself not to smile; the whole soccer situation was absolutely worth it if that meant seeing the lab rats for who they really were. And it appeared as though David, with all his sarcasm and supposed uncaring, had quite a protective streak for his niece. It was clear he didn't approve of anything sexually suggestive or loud, and to have those two things combined in one package was unsettling for him.

"I can't believe your mother lets you listen to this," David muttered. "Do you even know what half of these lyrics mean?"

"Sex, mainly," Natalie easily replied from the back. "But number one makes me wanna dance."

"That's it. I'm calling child services and reporting Anna when we get home," he announced as he backed out of the parking lot and towards the main road. A few quiet seconds passed as The Donnas rocked on, and David finally admitted, "I'd take Toby Urban McGraw over this. You know, there was once a time when you needed talent to get a record deal. Now all you need's a big rack and a cute ass."

"I heard that!" Natalie said from the back. David snorted and shook his head. "Girl, your mother curses like a sailor and you expect me to apologize for telling it like it is?"

"It's sexism," she promptly replied. "You're implying that only girls use their body to get a music contract."

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Females use big racks and cute asses to attract a label while males look like models for Salvation Army and use a singing voice akin to that of a dying cat. Either way, musical talent is going to be a faraway memory."

"Well, you just aren't into new music. You like old stuff," she argued, and David let out an offended 'hey!'

"Natalie Louise Hodges, by saying my music is old, you're also implying that _I'm_ old. I suggest you retract everything you just said lest I forget to feed you for the rest of the week."

"You can't forget to feed me if I remind you," she sensibly pointed out. "You would have to choose _not_ to feed me, but that's against the law and you'd be in trouble with all your law enforcement friends. Nick would arrest you."

"_Who_ would arrest me?"

There was a confused silence before Natalie slapped her forehead. "Oops, sorry. Mr. Stokes would arrest you."

"Very good. See, you aren't a lost cause just yet."

"But he told me to call him Nick," Natalie said. "He said that's what he preferred."

"Yeah, here's a secret," David replied, stopping at a red light and beginning to unconsciously drum his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm to the music. "Never listen to what adults tell you."

There was an even longer pause from Natalie's side of the conversation, tinged with both confusion and indecisiveness. "But mom always says to do everything an adult asks me to do."

"That's also true. It's one of the trials and tribulations of being a kid. You'll develop the innate ability to do the important stuff a grown up says while filtering out all their bullshit."

Nick let out a choked noise of surprise and turned to David, brown eyes slightly wide. Sure, the man could be uncouth, but she was _eleven_. Was there really a need to be so brash with one's words? "You shouldn't curse in front of her, man," he broke in, sure that his voice portrayed his disapproval for such language. Natalie laughed from her seat in the back.

"You haven't met my mom," she said, humor clear in her voice. "Uncle David only uses curse words periodically. He's a good influence."

"If I recall, I was theoretically arresting him for starving you," Nick pointed out, watching as David's expression went from concentration on waiting for the light to amusement. "Police cars and handcuffs and everything."

"I've never been much of a handcuff man myself," David replied, and Nick opened his mouth to reply before the weight of David's meaning hit him like an iron safe. He blinked owlishly as David pressed his foot the accelerator, the light having turned green. Nick could hear Natalie give an exasperated sigh, but didn't turn to see her inevitable eye roll; she was apparently used to such quips from her uncle and, even more so, her mother.

"Geez. Sex is gross," she complained.

"Weird sex is gross," David corrected and Nick idly heard the CD switch to song number two. "People can't have normal sex anymore. There always has to be chains and handcuffs and edible things that shouldn't be edible in the first place."

"There's always those people who dressed up as animals," she chimed in, and Nick figured Natalie had to know at least a few of the cases David had worked in the lab. Personally, he was still trying to get over the fact David had made sexual innuendo, and to _him_ no less.

"That was a weird case," David agreed, obviously not bothered by what he'd just said. "Watching Brass walk in with Sexy the Cat is going into the annals of crime lab history."

"I'll second you on that," Nick agreed, hoping to participate in the conversation without revealing just how shaken he was. "Workin' in a crime lab makes you realize things about people that you never wanted to know."

"Dildos in the dishwasher," the other man murmured; Nick, supposing Natalie really _had_ heard everything, let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, that one was doozy. People put their _dishes_ in there, man. Doesn't say anything for hygiene."

David was about to reply when his eyes focused on something in front of the car and he winced. Nick was quick to follow his gaze and he, too, shuddered at the ocean of red tail lights that lay all of forty yards before them.

"Good God, what's with the traffic?" David muttered. "What the hell are people doing out-''

"On a Saturday afternoon without having to go to work or school? An excellent question," Nick remarked, and David sent him a sidelong glare.

"As much as you probably won't like this, we're going to be stuck together for a little while longer," David dryly replied. As an afterthought, he turned his head slightly and gave Nick a somewhat apologetic expression. "But we can either be in the car or at my apartment. And we have pizza at my place, so I think the decision's been made."

"Thanks for asking my opinion and all."

"I kinda like the idea of going home," Natalie piped in, and David grinned.

"Oh look, the decision's unanimous," he added.

"I don't mind as long as the pepperoni isn't laced with anything from your mad scientist cabinet," Nick teased, and he saw that David couldn't fight his answering smile. It was more of an amused smirk, really, but Nick didn't expect anything less as David stopped at the last road before the bridge and made a swift right, avoiding what was sure to be a long wait.

…

Nick didn't know what to expect when he entered David's apartment; perhaps bland white walls or dungeon-like devices or a bubbling cauldron in the corner, but he found himself pleasantly surprised when David unlocked the front door. The décor was a subtle mix of masculinity and warmth; well, as warm as David could probably be. Everything was simple, well kept, and seemed to have a designated place. The furniture was modern with a clear, acrylic coffee table in the living room and what Greg would call a "really cool" lamp in the corner.

Nick followed Natalie inside and was only slightly aware of David closing the door behind them. In truth, Nick was trying to drink it all in: the cream colored walls, the trumpet case in the dining room corner, the books. Man, the _books_. There weren't magazines as much as there were novels and references; what looked to be hundreds of them were stuffed onto a bookshelf in the hall… and that bookshelf appeared as though it were about to collapse beneath the weight.

The living room housed a couch, recliner, CD tower, coffee table, and a large, flat screen television with a speaker system Archie undoubtedly helped David buy. The dining room was simple with a round table, some chairs, and a china cabinet that looked antique. Nick guessed it was more of a family heirloom than something David would willingly have in his home, because it was filled with china –old, by the looks of it- and some engraved silver, and David just didn't seem like a china kind of guy.

But more surprising than anything were the numerous photographs. They didn't take up the entire apartment, but there were more than Nick ever imagined David would have.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Natalie announced. "Then we can have some lunch, right?"

"Sure, goober face," David replied. "Make sure to brush that rat nest on top of your head."

"My hair's way awesome!" she defended.

"'Awesome' isn't the word that comes to mind," he responded. "Now go acquaint yourself with some soap and hot water. You're ripe."

Natalie headed to her room to get some fresh clothes, leaving Nick and David alone in silence.

"Want anything?" David asked, looking towards the Texan. "I have water, gingerale, and juice. Of course, I don't know why I even offered the juice, because Nat'll kill me if I touch it. So all I have is water and soda."

Nick grinned. "Water would be fine, thanks."

"Got it. And do you like pizza?"

"Dude, I was in a frat. I _lived_ on pizza."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"As long as there aren't any tiny dead fish on there."

David shot him an innocent look as he turned towards the kitchen. "What, you don't _like_ anchovies? Guess you'll just have to go hungry then."

Nick drifted towards the entertainment center while the sound of clinking glasses drifted in from the kitchen. The frames adorned the top shelf while a DVD player sat on the second and a record player nested on the third. The technology didn't hold Nick's interest in the least; it was the human element he wanted to see, and so the photographs were his primary attraction. Nick leaned in closer.

The first photo had a Christmas tree in it. Jacqui was rolling her eyes while Archie was giving her a kiss on the cheek. It would have been odd had Ronnie not been standing behind them, grinning like a madman and holding a sprig of mistletoe above their heads. In the corner, barely visible, was the figure of Bobby Dawson laughing his head off. Nick was surprisingly disappointed that David couldn't be seen, but he knew it was probably David taking the picture.

Nick gave a soft laugh before moving onto the next picture. It was also taken indoors, but Nick didn't recognize the building. He did, however, recognize the beaming faces of Jeremy and Bobby, both wearing tuxedos and grinning at the camera as though they had just won the jackpot. Nick only briefly wondered why they were all dressed up until he spotted the gold rings on their fingers; he smiled before his eyes swept over the photo, taking in each detail. He was oddly pleased to see David was in this one. As a matter of fact, David had his right arm slung around Bobby's neck, pulling him close and wearing a similarly happy grin while Ronnie stood on Jeremy's right and Jacqui squeezed her head between Ronnie and Jeremy's. Archie and Greg were also cramming themselves in, all the lab rats trying to fit into one tiny picture. Nick unconsciously raised his right hand and traced their smiling faces through the glass, at last landing on David's. Nick had no idea the man could smile like that.

The last one was taken outside. The grass was green, the sky bright blue, and Nick immediately recognized it as the park. The composition was far simpler than the first two, possibly because only two figures were shown. The first was Natalie, wearing her red and black soccer uniform, and the other was Greg, crazy hair and all, each other grinning with unhidden enthusiasm. Natalie had her hand behind Greg's head and was making bunny ears with her fingers… and Greg was doing the exact same thing. Nick snorted softly. Children.

He moved onto the bookshelf in the hall while idly listening to David root around in the refrigerator. Two more frames balanced on top of a group of encyclopedias and Nick squinted for a better look.

He immediately recognized the picture on the left as Greg's "passing the proficiency" celebration. He smiled at the memory; the lab rats and Greg had gone out for drinks and the CSIs had decided to join them. There had been a lot of picture taking that night, and Nick saw his own madly grinning face right next to Greg's. Catherine stood on the other side; she had drug David into the picture, citing "if you hadn't run all that DNA, Greg would still be wearing a blue coat." Nick remembered David's look of horror (for Catherine to publicly admit David's assistance was one of the man's worst nightmares) and she then held onto his arms while –Ronnie? Archie?- took the picture. David's smile was more of an uncomfortable grimace, but Greg's expression was so full of joy that the picture deserved its public display.

Nick didn't recognize the woman in the right-side picture, but after a moment of observation, made a safe guess. She lay on a white hospital bed, her long brown hair tangled on the pillow and her eyes heavy with severe fatigue, but she stared defiantly into the camera lens as she held a baby in her arms. The child was wrapped in a warm pink blanket and sleeping; Nick knew it had to be Anna and baby Natalie. David and his sister's resemblance were strong; their noses were the same, as were their smiles or, sometimes, lack thereof.

"That's me," came a voice. Nick was embarrassed to admit he was more jumpy than he'd been before his burial and even little girls could startle him if he wasn't prepared. He turned to his right and was met with Natalie's brown eyes. Her hair was wet, but as per David's request, brushed straight. She was wearing a pink Hello Kitty shirt with a pair of matching shorts. She smelled like lilacs.

"I figured," he replied, sending her a smile. "Is that your mom?"

"Yup," she confirmed, grinning proudly. "Uncle David was with her when she had me. Dad wasn't there. He left us."

"I'm sorry," Nick gently replied, but Natalie only shrugged.

"I'm not. He wasn't brave enough to stick around, but know what uncle David did? He let us stay in his house. He paid for all the hospital bills and everything, on the one condition that mom didn't date anymore scummy guys."

"And did she?"

"No way. She has a good job now working at a bank and she's really careful with the men she meets. No more cowards for her."

There was a silence between them, and Nick was about to suggest they go help David in the kitchen when Natalie spoke again. "There's another picture," she admitted, and he turned to see her looking at her feet, hands pulling at the hem of her shirt. "I don't know why I kept it. I… don't usually…"

She looked up with an unreadable expression before turning to the bookshelf, a tiny index finger running along the spines of each tome until it landed on a thin one. She bit her lip as she extracted it, and Nick recognized it as a copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_.

"It's my favorite story," she explained, opening it with familiar ease. "To me, the Jabberwocky is the most interesting part." She flipped through the pages, creating a whirlwind of printed words, until she found her place; a monstrous creature stared up at Nick from a worn page, but something was acting as a bookmark, and Nick knew it was the picture Natalie was so afraid of having. She touched it and then removed it from its place, handing it to Nick uncertainly.

"Uncle David kept it for a long time. In a notebook, I think, for almost a year, and then I saw him throw it away."

Nick held the picture tightly, staring at it with scrutinizing eyes. He knew this night, knew the exact date it was taken despite the fact he wasn't there.

The lab was tinted blue somehow, and the lights behind them were blurred, but the picture –most likely accidental, considering no one was even looking at the camera- still told a story Nick often tried to forget. Jacqui was nursing a cup of coffee, hunched over in her seat and staring at the wall across from her. Ronnie was leaning against the soda machine, biting on a nail, while Archie and Bobby were nowhere to be found. It was David, though, who was bent over in a chair far to the right, covering his face with his hands in exhaustion. Long fingers shielded his eyes while dark hair, streaked with only a bit of gray, was mussed.

"Uncle David never looked at that one. I don't know why he kept it," Natalie softly admitted. "I've never seen him that way, but I can tell something bad was happening."

Nick felt sick. _Something bad was happening_. Yes, something bad was happening; he had been ten seconds from pulling the trigger, sick of lime glow sticks, unable to take the stale air while ants were picking away at him like vultures to a dead carcass. Only Nick hadn't been dead at the time, making it that much worse. All he could see through the Plexiglas walls were roots, dead land, and unforgiving, detached earth. And yet the team –his team- still came; he saw Warrick's panicked face, felt the beautiful chill of the fire extinguisher. Nick wondered whether other people at the park –the ones who'd watch them play soccer sometimes- knew that that the normal-looking people on the field were actually burn victims, burial victims, abuse victims, and, perhaps in David's case, hate victims.

_We must seem so normal to them._

He glanced at the girl before him, aware that David would never tell her this story; it was a tale everyone tried to forget, and there was no reason a young girl should have to hear it too.

"I don't know what it is either," Nick lied, hoping God would forgive his untruth. "Maybe one day he'll tell you."

Natalie took the photo back and tucked it between the book sheets. Did she know? Did she know that David had nearly attacked a delivery guy for the package? That he spent overtime running everything twice? That he rushed the prototype so that Nick wouldn't end up like Walter Gordon, torn to pieces, bits of flesh decorating a supposedly beautiful nursery? He doubted she did, and yet Nick couldn't ever seem to forget those little details. The way Catherine had revealed the story to him made his chest hurt in an unexplained feeling, because it was _Hodges_, the trace guy, who suddenly turned into someone else. Or maybe he didn't transform, merely showed his real colors instead. Showed that he cared, and that he wanted Nick to be rescued just like everyone else did.

Nick was broken from his reverie when Natalie suddenly jammed the book into the case and spun around, plastering a big smile on her face as David stood in the doorway, giving them both suspicious looks.

"Are you two conspiring?" he asked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Nick couldn't help but notice that he looked good like that.

"Conspire? Just look at this face," Natalie replied, pointing to her own features. "Do I _look_ like the kind of girl who conspires?"

"Please, you have my genes. You were _born_ to plot."

"Darn, we've been found out," she playfully muttered, heaving a put-on sigh. "What do we do, Ni- Mr. Stokes?"

"Well, I think there's only one thing we _can_ do, hon," Nick responded, bending to pick her up and give her a little twirl. She emitted a delighted squeal as he did so; in all honesty, Nick was surprised he'd even done it. She wasn't _his_ niece, wasn't part of _his_ family, and so he doubted David would appreciate such an action. But when Nick cast him a look to see whether he really objected to it, he saw that David was still leaning against the wall, wearing a forcefully blank expression. It was almost… well, Nick had never been good with identifying emotions, but he'd guess that the average passerby would label David as 'sad.' Nick knew he couldn't be certain of this, but it was still an odd thing to see how David's eyes were flat and his jaw was set, as though he were about to lose something very precious.

"And what's that?" she asked, laughing as Nick easily hoisted her small frame against his arms.

"Leach off your uncle's food and board."

"Food sounds great," Natalie agreed, turning to face her uncle while Nick held her. "Pizza? And a movie?"

"Like you'd eat anything else, goober face," David confirmed. "And a movie's fine just so long as it's not-''

"Just Like Heaven!"

"-that one," David finished, making a face of disgust. Natalie quickly turned to Nick again.

"What do you think? Just Like Heaven? It's a great movie, very romantic and it-''

"Makes me want to vomit," David concluded, turning and waving them back to the living room and towards the kitchen.

"I'm sure your taste in movies are impeccable," Nick said, sending the small girl a smile as he acted as her taxi service and carried her to the kitchen for plates and soda. "As a matter of fact, I bet it's interesting to see just how much your uncle hates chick flicks."

"Whoa, before we decide to totally revolt against everything I say, let's at least leave it up to chance," David protested. "Paper, rock, scissors. You win, we can watch something schmoopy and disgusting. I win, you can guarantee there'll be Alex Baldwin and submarines."

"We've only seen The Hunt for Red October a _zillion_ times, uncle David," Natalie responded, but patted Nick's shoulder as an indication to put her down. He complied, gently setting her on her feet, and stood back to simply watch as she walked up to David in reaction to the challenge. She, so like her Aunt Jacqui, never backed down from a dare… especially if it was from David.

They solemnly held out their fists, and Nick had the impression that they had done this many times before. Natalie stood tall and met her uncle's eyes while David did the same.

"Ready?" he asked. She gave a grave nod.

"When you are," she confirmed, and the two raised and then lowered their outstretched fist three times, various fingers quickly uncurling on the third instance. David's hand was still curled into a fist, representing the rock, but Natalie's whole hand was flat, representing paper. David's eyes widened at the result before they immediately narrowed on the triumphant smile his niece was wearing. She crossed her arms in a purely Jacqui Franco manner and David followed suit, a habit undoubtedly picked up from his sister. They were silent for a moment, staring each other down, and Nick was sure they'd end up boring a hole into each other's face.

"Please don't make me watch this again."

Nick knew that if he hadn't been leaning against a chair, he would have fallen over... because David Hodges said _please_.

Natalie merely grinned and twirled towards the living room. "Oh, but I think I will."

"Can't you have some mercy?" David groaned, collecting the food and following her path. He placed the plates onto the coffee table before sitting on the right side of the couch; Nick, who had taken the glasses, knew he'd have no excuse to sit next to David. This was oddly disappointing. "How many times are you going to make me see it? Until my eyes bleed?"

"Until you realize the joy of romantic comedies," Natalie promptly replied, crouching in front of the DVD player, pressing various buttons in order to get the movie started. "Besides, N- Mr. Stokes hasn't seen it yet. Have you?" She turned her head to shoot an inquisitive look towards Nick; brown eyes met brown and she was smiling, a big dorky smile that almost reminded him of Greg.

"Nope, never even heard of it," Nick answered, and David let out an over-exaggerated groan.

"Great going, Stokes," he replied, but it was clear he didn't mean anything by it. "You were my last chance. Now it looks like we're stuck watching unrealistic plots and relationships that no one could possibly put their faith into."

"What do you mean by that?" Natalie asked, visibly offended as she stood up with her hands on her hips.

"Nat, can you honestly believe that Sam Coulson would wind up with Josie Gellar in Never Been Kissed? No, because there are copyright laws and violations of privacy going on there. Coulson could have sued for a hell of a lot of things. I bet that whole newspaper company could have gone under for slander, but what happens? A kiss on a baseball field. Not plausible."

"You take the fun out of romance," Natalie countered, climbing onto the couch and taking a sip of her Sprite.

"I'm merely thinking logically. Besides, you're eleven. What do you know about romance?"

"I know that you take the fun out of it."

"A stunning retort. Have you been listening to your mother? She isn't exactly the one to go to when it comes to men and dates."

"You aren't exactly a prime candidate either," Natalie returned, and David shot her an evil look before turning back towards the television. Nick choked on his water, giving a few coughs to clear his lungs, before grinning at the girl beside him.

"Hon, you have my undying respect. Do you know what some of your uncle's co-workers would pay to hear this stuff?"

"You, Nick Stokes, are a terrible influence," David interjected. "I strictly forbid anymore communication between you two."

"I think that's kind of mean," she objected. "Mom would think he's a great influence. Besides, I was merely pointing out that you haven't gone on a single date since you moved from California and when I went to the school dance with Zack, I didn't think it was so ba-''

"Dance? Did you just say 'dance?' When was this?" David cut in, shooting his niece a scandalized look. Natalie stopped short, as did Nick, and they both gave him a confused glance.

"Last weekend," she replied. "It was for all the fifth graders, and-''

"So you're telling me that your mother allowed you to go to a dance with a boy I haven't met? Has _she_ even met this guy? Because I work in a crime lab, and I know all the things that people do to each other, and the thought of you going out with anyone is insanity. I have to approve of them first, and I'll have you know my standards are high."

Natalie arched an eyebrow. "How high?"

"The Jolly Green Giant couldn't reach them. Besides, did you not just hear the part where I said you're eleven? You shouldn't be thinking about boys until you're at _least_ thirty years old."

"Yeah, but my friends are all going out," Natalie countered.

"What friends are these? Does your mother know you're hanging out with-''

"Hodges," Nick calmly interrupted, taking a small sip of his water even as he fought a smile. He knew exactly what David was going to say and David knew it, too. "Watch your language."

"-Girls who may not have the best influence on you?" David finished, flicking blue eyes in Nick's direction before returning his attention to his niece.

"Yup," Natalie easily replied. "She sure does. Now I want you to calm down and watch this movie with me."

"And you're sure this is the one you want to watch, right?" David muttered, a last ditch effort to get out of seeing Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo's romantic supernatural encounters. "Because I know you like the one with Sean Connery and that league thing, right? We could always change to that."

"The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?"

"Yeah. How can you go wrong with explosions and monsters?"

"Because you can't kiss while Venice is exploding," she responded, taking a happy bite of her pizza.

"Yeah, well, Hodges wouldn't know," Nick replied. "Considering he hasn't gotten a kiss since God knows when."

David turned his head to shoot Nick a murderous glower and opened his mouth to retort before Natalie, unaware he made any move to do so, cut him off.

"Why do you call each other by your last names?"

As the initial credits began to scroll on screen, Nick blinked and looked at her. She went on, undeterred. "I mean, I've never called anyone by their last name like that, not even people I dislike. And it doesn't really sound professional either. It kinda just sounds cold. Unless it's a teacher, where I say _Miss._ Baker or _Mr._ Lee, but not just Baker or Lee. Don't you think?"

David and Nick's eyes met over the top of her head before David looked away and towards the television. Nick had never really thought about it, but Natalie hit on a relevant point. It _did_ seem impersonal, and David had been working at the lab long enough to warrant a first-name basis with people.

…

Nick's consciousness was a fickle thing, because it enjoyed weaving in and out of shadows and corners until light from the real world outshone the darkness behind his eyelids. Sometimes the dreams his consciousness brought with it were dark and smelled of earth and stale air, but other times they smelled like lilacs and home.

Nick yawned, his body slightly stiff as he shifted to get more comfortable. Despite the fact he'd obviously fallen asleep in his work clothes again, he still felt calm and relaxed, warm and at ease. Even his jeans (which aren't always comfy to sleep in) didn't deter him from hitting the sack. He let out a muffled groan, in no mood to wake, but the alternative of listening to a shrill alarm wasn't at all appealing. With a yawn, eyes still closed, he reached out to his bed stand-

Wait.

His eyes shot open and he quickly sat up, feeling dizzy with a slight head rush. This wasn't his house. Accordingly, this wasn't his room, and it most _certainly_ wasn't his bed. With a quick look around, he knew he was perfectly safe and wasn't in the clutches of some random stranger. As a matter of fact, he could hear the familiar laughter of certain eleven-year-old soccer players coming from the kitchen. Additionally, there was a pillow beneath his head and a warm blanket layered on top of him. He stilled, the sound of sizzling bacon now filling his ears. Any fear he might have had the first few milliseconds after he woke was replaced by absolute mortification. He had fallen asleep… on David Hodges' couch. He cleaned the sleep from his eyes as he quickly stood, leaving the blanket and pillow where they lay. What had happened last night? The movie. He actually enjoyed it, for what little he saw. Had he really dozed off? How embarrassing for him and probably inconvenient for his host. His mother would die if she ever heard.

Were Natalie and David asleep? Should he leave? Call a cab? Leave a note of thanks? He blearily reached for his cell phone, wondering if the battery was high enough to dial a taxi service. The power level was looking pretty depleted, but maybe if he-

"…add chocolate chips?"

Nick jumped slightly and glanced around, smoothing out his hair as he attempted to fully wake. That voice sounded suspiciously familiar, and the half-heard question was followed by a small clink of silverware. Nick slowly began towards the kitchen, the carpet soft beneath his feet as he lightly treaded forwards. The kitchen had no door, so Nick slowly poked his head around, hoping to stealthily deduce who was up, who was asleep, and whether he could escape with at least _some_ of his dignity in tact.

He froze.

In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think that he had been through a lot of things –framed for murder, stalked by a psychopath, buried alive- but he _never_ thought he'd wake up in David Hodges' house to see David standing in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for three, wearing pajama bottoms that pooled around his bare feet and a worn t-shirt that read "Pinewood Highschool Marching Season, '79-80".

Not only that, but Natalie stood next to him, getting milk from out of the fridge and wilting beneath the weight of a full gallon. Nick was too dazed to really move and he couldn't help but feel that he was invading a personal moment as she began to drop the heavy load, David quickly catching it, talking to her in a soft voice and making her laugh. He set it down and then picked her up, gave her a kiss on her forehead, and plopped her on the counter top next to where he was mixing pancake batter.

"Hi Mr. Stokes," she greeted, smiling from her seat on the counter. Nick inwardly cringed; David hadn't noticed him, but it appeared as though Natalie was a young CSI. She caught sight of everything.

"Hey," he began, hoping his blush was light. He had been staring, and not just at anyone, which scared him to no end. Since when had David Hodges become Nick's eye magnet? "I'm sorry I crashed. You could've kicked me out anytime you wanted."

"That was my plan," David began, and Nick couldn't decide whether he was being serious or not. After a moment, Nick was pretty sure he was joking. "But my better half convinced me not to."

"That would be me," Natalie announced, grinning. "I hope we didn't wake you up."

"No, of course not," Nick replied, smiling. "Anyway, sorry again. I'll hit the road, yeah?"

"How're you going to get home? Besides, you can't leave yet. We're making pancakes," she objected, waving a spatula for emphasis. Nick briefly wondered if she and Ronnie had spatula sword fights on days spent together.

"Honey, I think Nick needs some sleep," came David's interjection. "Let the man rest. It's his day off."

She let out a sigh of disappointment but nodded, aware that Nick was an adult, and as such, had more important things to do. Personally, she didn't understand how someone could resist the lure of pancakes, but she supposed some people just had a willpower she'd never reach. Besides, it wasn't as if they didn't _want_ him there. She glanced up to see Nick again; he was smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes in some vain hope to look halfway presentable, but it was a pipedream. Nothing could help him now.

"Can't fight crime when you're half-asleep," she agreed, and set about mixing the batter some more.

"Exac- hey, I fight crime too, goober face," David said, giving her a playful shove.

"Do you have a gun?"

"No. Besides, your mom wouldn't let you stay here if I did."

"Do you have a badge?"

"I have a professionally laminated identification card."

"Is it gold?"

"It's laminated. Laminated things are cool."

"Says who?"

"Says your uncle who doesn't have a badge. Now do you want breakfast or not?"

"Yes."

David picked her up and set her down onto the floor. "Then go wash your hands-''

"But I haven't touched anything."

"We've already had this discussion. There can be thirty-five hundred to twenty-one thousand germs on every-''

"Square inch of flat surface," Natalie finished. "I know. You've told me. Greg told me. Jacqui told me. Ronnie told me. Even Archie told me."

"Right you are. Wash your hands, set the table, and I'll have breakfast finished in a few minutes."

Natalie gave Nick a bright grin as she zoomed by; David watched her leave, a small smile in place that quickly disappeared the moment he caught Nick's eyes on him.

"You can stay for breakfast," he offered, turning back to a warming griddle. "I cooked for three, so the whole 'I don't want to intrude' excuse isn't going to work. I plan on guilting you into staying."

"What an incredible host."

"I try."

Nick supposed he had no choice but to simply allow himself the pleasure of being there. Three years ago, he had imagined how horrible it would probably be to spend time with "what's his name" outside of work. But he knew he could definitely get used to it; sunrise pouring light in through windows, a fresh breakfast, and the excited babble of a young girl who simply loved life. He had to give David points for being such a great quasi-parent, a father figure for a kid whose real father walked right out on them. Nick felt strangely honored to see a relationship most other wouldn't guess existed between David and a child; besides, Natalie's father, whoever he was, didn't know what he missed.

There was chatter and a small amount of general chaos as they set the table, poured the milk, and found the syrup. As they ate, Nick shot David a glance when he thought the other man wasn't looking. He was surprised to meet a pair of blue eyes across the table, and David quickly turned his attention back to his niece… but for a moment, it had been deep brown on blue.

That had been happening a lot lately.

TBC.

Additional A/N: _Just Like Heaven_ rocks my world. Watch it, know it, love it!


	3. Part 3

A/N: I was slightly terrified to post this, because I kept working at it and it never seemed _good_ enough... until my brother finally gave me a round-house kick to the head. Suddenly, it was worthy of Eliot and Yeats. :D

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Put Into Play  
Part 3

He doesn't know when it happened.

When he and David Hodges became friends.

Not forced friends or mere acquaintances, but honest-to-God friends who went out to breakfast without pretence and shared coffee while swapping horror stories and laughs. He was sure it happened during April, but had he known it would be so easy, so nice, he would've done it much sooner. Three years ago sooner, to be exact, but he's just glad it happened. The only thing that concerned him, or bothered, or whatever, was that April was winding down. Soccer would be gone, the park would disappear, and Saturdays spent doing nothing but watching David and Jacqui try to win the infinite Battle of the Sexes would all be over.

But Nick hoped that just because May was approaching didn't mean he and David –actually, the CSIs and lab rats- had to lose the friendship that formed. To be truthful, he was thrilled when David offered to drive him to Natalie's final match. He even told Nick where he kept the spare key to his apartment (beneath the fire extinguisher), an unspoken offering that said _Come by whenever you want_. Nick hoped he didn't appear too eager when he accepted this.

He was admittedly early the morning of Natalie's last game. Too early, probably, considering David wasn't even out of bed when Nick opened the door with the key he'd found under the extinguisher, as promised. This ended up being a good thing, because Natalie was already dressed in her uniform and staring out the dining room window. Bearing in mind that it was the day of "The Big Game" (Greg enjoyed labeling things, it seemed), Nick wasn't too surprised to see Natalie was an anxious, excited ball of nerves. She was delighted to see Nick and then proceeded to beg him to practice with her. Who was he to say no? Besides, he could tell she desperately needed to expend some of her surplus tension, so he left a Post It on the coffee maker explaining where they were before taking her down to practice in the front yard of the complex.

This plan might have worked. Fifteen minutes into it, she was finally starting to become her normal self: her chatter had reduced from warp-speed to normal-speed (her sentences were actually punctuated with breaths instead of a constant stream of words), her movements were more coordinated instead of twitchy, and she could take calming breaths without nearly throwing up with apprehension. But Nick, ever optimistic, supposed he did a mental victory dance too soon, because as he guarded the goal post, waiting for Natalie to make a kick… she scored two points. He can remember the moment as clear as day, although it was difficult for the two of them to believe. Without his help and without even _trying_, really, she still managed to boot the ball past his waiting form and into the net.

Needless to say, all of her energy came back.

Nick was happy for her, of course, but it was a difficult task to follow her when she was zooming down the halls, unable to wait to tell David of her success. As a matter of fact, her fervor only increased as she charged up the stairs (too impatient to wait for an elevator), through the living room of David's apartment, and towards his closed bedroom door.

Nick protested –he honestly did- but it was too late; she had already barged through, and he could only follow in hopes of staving off the excess energy that was sure to implode the entire building. He had seen David's bedroom several times (not for the reasons he wanted, but he still knew what it looked like) and understood David wanted privacy, but you couldn't expect a moment of solitude when there were soccer players involved, especially if they were only eleven and _especially_ when they were successful at inadvertently gaining two points.

"Uncle Dave!" she said, hoping her voice would be enough to wake him. Nick stuck his head through the doorway and cleared his throat, hoping not to appear too awkward. Natalie, on the other hand, wasn't fazed. Instead of being subtle or even vaguely quiet, she hopped onto the bed where a comatose David lay sleeping on the left side. "Guess what today is! Time to get up, time to get ready, time to get psyched!"

Nick couldn't help but be amused as David made a non-committal grunt and hid his head beneath his blankets, trying to escape his niece's excited babble.

She frowned before standing and beginning to jump on his large mattress. Maybe movement would rouse him. "C'mon, are you gonna wake up with the chickens or not? It's the day we've been training for! Up up up!"

David muttered something (probably profane, but it was so low that not even Nick could discern it) and rolled over to his right side, moving into a fetal position and dragging the blanket even further over his head.

"David Hodges, you'd better say something," she warned, ceasing her jumping and getting on her knees, shaking his shoulder insistently.

David made another sound as Natalie, realizing he was barely conscious, climbed off the bed, grabbed the blanket, and ripped if off. She, so like her aunt and mother, knew what she wanted and how to get it. In response to this transgression, he huddled even further, his t-shirt and black pajama pants not doing much by way of warmth.

"You're the devil reincarnate," he muttered, taking a pillow and covering his head with it. "Not surprising considering the woman you shot out of."

"Dave!"

"I think your uncle needs some rest, hon," Nick said, walking over and picking her up, swinging her around, and then covering a freezing David back up with a blanket as he balanced Natalie against his left hip. "You remember Greg and how he can't function before he drinks coffee?"

She nodded. Zombies had nothing on a caffeine-deficient Greg.

"Well, your Uncle David has the same syndrome."

David mumbled something else until he glared at the Texan from above the blanket. "If you want me operable, then you had better acquaint yourself with the coffee maker in the kitchen. Otherwise, stop talking. I can't sleep."

"Let's make him some coffee," Natalie suggested. "And some for me too, 'cause it's delicious."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Ms. Hamm."

She laughed, hiding her blushing face in the crook of Nick's neck. "I scored a goal!" she chanted. "Wait until Coach Taylor hears about this!"

There was a moment of silence before David cracked one blue eye open. "You did what?" he asked, voice slightly raspy with sleep.

"I was practicing outside with Nick and I scored a goal. That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

David let out another groan and covered his head with a pillow once more.

"Three years of this and you decide to finally score a goal while I'm asleep. That's harsh, Nat."

…

The day was bright, but the sun didn't quite burn if you could find some shade. Even as David managed to find a parking space, he could already see that the place was going to be brimming with people within half an hour. The three jumped out and locked the doors before making their way up to the front gates. Natalie's school was obviously heavy on the sports, because Nick couldn't remember his own elementary school ever being so laced with energy over what was supposed to be a simple soccer match.

The soccer field was packed with parents and proud relatives, and Nick was just barely able to see where Jacqui had secured them some seats on the benches. Of course, it was hard not to notice a crazy woman waving like a maniac even while they drowned in the crowd.

Natalie was off like a shot, whizzing towards her quasi-family with a speed only young girls possessed. David and Nick were slower; they didn't speak, but the silence was comfortable, and Nick liked that. They didn't used to be so relaxed in each other's company; it was tense most of the time, sometimes even hostile, so this ease gave them relief they didn't know they wanted and now knew they needed.

"Hey Jacq," David greeted as they finally arrived to their destination, pausing to grin at her salad. Nick wished he'd do it more often. "Looks scrumptious."

Jacqui took this moment to send him a "you'll pay for this, little man" glare, clutching onto the fork handle with too much force. "Soccer season," she hissed, "Will be my undoing. And yours too, if you don't watch yourself."

"Good morning to you too," Nick said, laughing at her expression. "You know, you'll be able to eat real food after this."

"If I survive," came her prompt retort. "Rumor is vegetables are good for you and all, but what's it take to sneak some M&Ms past this guy?" (She took this moment to nod towards David, who merely looked pleased.) "Does he have ESP? Every time I try to steal something from the snack machine, someone conveniently walks in and stops me with a clever ruse. 'Jacqui, run this.' 'Jacqui, dust that.' It's like they want me to work or something."

"It's not ESP, Jacq," David replied, "But the walls have eyes. Besides, I heard working's all part of this little thing called… what was it again? A _job_?"

"And _I_ call it a diversion with monetary compensation. Our views are just different."

"Try flawed."

"Meh. Besides, I think you should zip those lips closed and start acting human."

"And why's that?"

"For one, you're in a public place where unsuspecting bystanders can see you. And second, because Nat's coach is walking towards us. Of course, that's just me talking. You're free to do whatever you want, which includes acting like the jackass you are."

Nick and David turned to see a young man (young being forty-ish, considering Nick was pushing thirty-nine) approach them. He was tall with light brown hair, a wiry body, and a decent tan. He gave them both a smile before nodding to Jacqui (in the background, Archie and Greg were arguing over Star Trek while Catherine and Ronnie were debating the best type of ballpoint pen for your money. Considering the coach wasn't running away in horror, Nick guessed he had already met them before). His suspicions were confirmed when he gave his attention back to the trio.

"Morning, Jacqui," he greeted. "Nice salad."

"Shut up."

"She's in one of her moods," he noted as he turned towards the two men. David rolled his eyes.

"When _isn't_ she in a mood?"

Nick gave him a playful nudge and to his surprise, David returned it. Nick gave a small laugh at the gesture; in the beginning, this had been so edgy. It took a year for Nick to even get used to the David's presence, much less make conversation or joke around, and now Nick was sure he couldn't go back to how it once was.

Ben Taylor gave Nick a surprised look before glancing towards David, and Nick supposed that the coach wasn't used to such displays either. "Is this-?"

"-my friend Nick, yeah," David cut off, seemingly calm even as Nick detected his discomfort. "He comes to Natalie's matches."

"Really? Well, she's showing great improvement," Ben noted, holding out his hand in greeting. Nick, curious to understand David's social contacts (and therefore, his life) was quick to shake it. "She's making some incredible passes. Who do I have to thank for that?"

"David, probably," Nick replied, smiling. "He's not too bad of a soccer player himself."

"You could come help us," Natalie suggested, rocking from the heels of her feet to her toes and back again, a swing-swing motion that gave away her pre-game jitters. "That would be fun!"

"For who, me?" her uncle asked, raising his eyebrows. "Taking care of you is enough, thanks. The thought of thirteen more of you makes me shudder."

"Oh, ha ha. Remember that time you coached us 'cause Coach Taylor was sick? That wasn't so bad."

David made a face. "Maybe not for the first five seconds, but then you all started _talking_."

"Well, it was the day before Finals and we were excited. Can you blame us? Besides, he taught you how to handle us lots of times, and even while you two were dat- when they- da…"

She trailed off.

It was an odd statement to make, but Nick was more than able to translate. It appeared as though David and Coach Taylor were as well, because the resulting silence stood out even in the surrounding noise. Nick's mind faltered for a moment, unable to comprehend what she had just let slip: David and Ben had dated. Maybe not for a long time, but they still went out, which would imply the fact that David dated men. This newfound information made Nick's breath shorten as he slowly turned towards David, who was looking rather lost himself. His air was still, as if he had suddenly transformed into a statue, and Nick ached for him. Nick knew he'd never be able to survive this himself, not if his friends didn't already know, and for it come out of nowhere in a public place was terrifying.

Natalie put her palm to her mouth, swiveling scared eyes towards her similarly shocked uncle. The lab rats knew of David's preference, but the CSIs, minus Greg, had been in the dark. Catherine's eyebrows rose but she didn't say anything. Nick wished he had her finesse; he took her hint when it came to being quiet, but he was sure his stunned expression wasn't doing him any favors.

"I'm sorry," Natalie whispered between her fingers, absolutely horrified as she took a step back. "I'm sorry, uncle David."

David opened his mouth to reply, turning an uncertain gaze to Nick before mentally reprioritizing. He took a step forward to his niece and she took another back.

"Honey," he began, reaching for her, "No one here cares."

"But you said you didn't want Nick to know," she replied, tears of shame beginning to well. "I promised I wouldn't say anything."

"Nat, listen, it's not a big deal. It was an accident. That's okay."

Nick knew he shouldn't be so floored as to how well David was handling the situation, but he couldn't help but admire him. He was calm and rational. Not only that, but he was putting his niece before himself, brushing off the fact that his co-worker –four, actually, now that Catherine, Warrick, and Sara were paying attention- knew one of his biggest secrets.

The young girl let out a soft whine of shame before turning and fleeing towards the school's main building. David looked stricken, there was no mistaking that. He turned and gave Jacqui a helpless look before quickly following his niece. Jacqui took her cue and turned to the four investigators, the rest of the lab rats following her actions while Ben quickly excused himself. There was an uncomfortable silence before Ronnie finally cleared his throat.

"Catherine, I know you don't mind Bobby and Jeremy. We know that you'd never- not on purpose, but we still-''

"What he's trying to say is that David's still David, he'd just rather date men," Bobby translated.

"Man, you think we really care about that stuff?" Warrick queried, disbelieving that they were so defensive over a matter that Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and Sara didn't really care about. They cared about David, and about how it might affect him, but they didn't give a damn whether he preferred John or Jane.

"I'm just surprised he hid it so well," Sara mused. "And for so long."

"He hasn't dated since L.A.," Nick idly murmured, carefully watching the path David and Natalie had disappeared down, hoping they'd come back soon. He only barely registered the resulting silence, and he turned for a brief moment, giving them a small smile. "I have my sources," he informed, and then turned back to his previous task. Didn't David know that they were CSIs? That they saw true evil, and there was no way gays could ever be equated with said evil? Perhaps they hadn't made that clear enough, but he'd hoped that their acceptance of Bobby would give David a clue. At the same time, they had always treated Bobby like a friend. David… not so much.

Nothing much was said after that, but Bobby did manage to spark a conversation a few minutes later that made the time pass. Nick couldn't get into it; he was still waiting for David and Natalie to return, and he sent a silent prayer that everything was okay. He contented himself by watching the field and observing other girls Natalie's age warm up. He checked his watch, debating whether to go find them. He knew she wouldn't want to be late, and the game would start soon.

To his relief, he caught sight of them winding their way through the maze of spectators. Natalie walked slowly, holding David's hand and pulling at the hem of her ruby soccer shirt with the other. Nick knew it was wrong that a child felt ashamed of letting a secret slip; being attracted to the same sex shouldn't have to be a secret in the first place, and the fear he'd seen on her face -the dread that her uncle would be angry with her- made Nick's heart hurt. He watched them approach with a bit of pride in David, because the other man had obviously convinced a distraught little girl that everything was okay, the Earth was still rotating, and not a single soul was angry with her. Natalie still looked worse for wear, there was no doubt about that, but at least she wasn't crying anymore. Nick wasn't sure he could've handled her tears.

"Hey, it's our star soccer player," Jacqui greeted, her voice trying to be light and coming off as anxious. "What's up, sweetie?"

Natalie didn't reply. She merely let go of David's hand, eyes glued to the ground, and marched up to Nick. She swallowed hard and then looked up to meet his eyes.

"Will you still come over?"

Nick's eyebrows rose in surprise. Her voice was a mixture of fierceness and shakiness, void of its usual happy tone. Her tiny hands were balled into fists.

"Now that you know, will you still come over anyway?" she continued. "Because he's still the same person you knew, only now you know even more, so will you still visit?"

Nick let out a quiet breath. "Of course I will," he promised. "That stuff doesn't matter to me."

"Really? Because we might start inviting you over and-''

"Nat," David cut in, his own posture fairly rigid. "We talked about this. This whole conversation's over, okay?"

"-you'll start making up excuses, and then we'll stop asking because we'll know you just don't want to see us anymore-''

"Natalie," David stressed, his voice holding a tone of warning and exasperation. "Would you leave this alone?"

"-because you're uncomfortable about homosexuality. So if you don't want to see movies or anything, that's fine, because we don't _need_ you, but we just want you to tell us upfront and not be a coward like my dad!"

"_Natalie._"

By that time, David was near livid; he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her around. Her brunette hair whirled as she was turned and she visibly shrank back when she saw how angry he was.

"I told you to drop it," he said, his even voice hiding his incensed state. "I swear to God you're like your mother, never listening to a damn word I say. _Drop it_. Whatever happens is my problem, not yours, okay?"

She wrenched herself from his grip and stormed towards the soccer field. It seemed as though David's "you're just like your mother" comment rang true; Nick knew Anna was probably the exact same way, upset when she couldn't defend the ones she loved. And Nick knew something else as well: he had to stop this now, the misunderstanding, the tension.

Natalie's words of _But you said you didn't want Nick to know_ blasted Nick's mind like a loud speaker. Why hadn't David wanted Nick to know? It didn't really matter, he guessed, but letting it end like this wasn't an option. Nick was curious, yearned to understand why David had been specific with who he chose to clue in and who he left in the dark, but now wasn't the time nor the place to consider it.

"Hey, Nat?" he called, watching as she slowed and turned around, brown eyes flat and body slightly slouched. She didn't respond, merely waited.

"I can promise that I'm really okay with your uncle," Nick said, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and a small smile on his face. He heard David quietly groan beside him, but Nick knew he had to continue.

"My first boyfriend's name was Anthony," Nick went on, and nearly prepared for the world to end right then. He was admitting it to everyone; the lab rats, Natalie, David. He had never come clean with his feelings before, not even after he nearly lost his life through various moments of near death. He had always planned to let them stay inside, quiet and unheard by the world. What was forcing him to do this? That little girl. That girl, who loved soccer and the scent of lilacs and her uncle more than anything. Her uncle, who was a man of many surprises, and who brought forth both memories of that night and a desire that Nick hadn't felt for anyone in a long time, if ever.

"My second was named Robert. I met him at college in my freshman year. When I moved to Vegas, I met Markus." He gave Natalie another smile in hopes his attention wouldn't be diverted to the stares of his friends. "They were all nice guys."

"But?" she quietly asked.

"But none of them… there was never a 'click', know what I mean? So I kinda kept waiting to meet the right person."

"Kept?" Catherine echoed, raising an elegant eyebrow. No one had to ask what she meant; her implication was clear enough. 'Kept' was the past tense, indicating that Nick might have finally found someone he could put his heart in. "Wanna give us a hint?"

"Yeah," Nick replied, wearing a smile that meant he knew exactly what Catherine was trying to figure out. "He's got blue eyes and an amazing smile when he chooses to use it."

Nick then turned and looked at David, blue eyes meeting brown. He knew he had to remember this moment forever, to keep it in his mind until he died, because no one had ever seen David fall _speechless_ before. It looked as though David wasn't even daring to breath and was trying to either wake up from his dream or figure out what Nick was playing at and how he could appropriately retaliate.

There was another silence between them, and David wasn't sure what to do or say; it seemed as though everyone was waiting and Natalie was riveted to what was going on right in front of her. The thought of having a relationship with Nick was scary and thrilling and difficult and wonderful all at the same time, but it would never happen if David couldn't even admit to Nick that he was gay. And why should he? He had every right to keep it from him. Maybe he kept it hidden because he didn't want to give the Texan any incentive to pursue anything other than friendship. Or maybe he, like Nick, was just nervous. Whatever it was, Nick wanted to make sure Natalie was aware that he liked David no matter what and, actually, this new-discovered fact made it all the sweeter. It gave Nick hope, at least, that the possibility was there.

But now the silence was near deafening, and Nick had no idea how to continue. He didn't want to pressure David into saying or acting on something in order to escape suffocating stares and stillness, and he was about to try and brush the subject off when Jacqui Franco, who had no shame, simply said, "Just kiss him already!"

David's eyes widened and he, even with all his wit and sarcasm, began to blush. He swore he wasn't going to kill her; even as he began considering where he last saw a bottle of cyanide, he still swore he wouldn't. Didn't she have any humility? He wanted to give her a piece of his mind and then perhaps curl up and die, but Nick merely grinned before walking over, leaning in, and connecting their lips in a barely-hesitant motion.

David couldn't lie: it felt good. Amazing, actually, because Nick was warm and solid. Besides, this was what David had wanted for a long, _long_ time; ever since the moment he saw Nick on his first day at work, he told himself he had no chance, and he accepted that easily. He never had much of a chance with anybody; then again, he never really _wanted_ one. As the days and months passed, he became more confident in himself. He was able to see Natalie more often, which changed him for the better (she had endless confidence in him, and David wondered where she got it,) and then he had the lab rats giving him lectures every time he turned a corner. Self-confidence? Being yourself? Knowing that your friends love you? He'd heard them all, and eventually changed his outlook just so he wouldn't have to listen to them preach. This all helped him deal with his attraction to Nick, even to the point where he could talk (and semi-flirt) without feeling like a nothing.

But this was too much. This wasn't possible.

The moment he fully grasped the situation, he broke the kiss. He knew Nick, and he knew the Texan would do anything to make someone feel better. He'd even kiss him for the world to see if that was what it took.

"You're pretty confident in yourself when it comes to this, aren't you?" David whispered, wondering whether a glare was appropriate as he quickly took one small step away.

Nick smiled again, although it was laced with uncertainty and fear. David hated to see it. "So stop me," he whispered back.

"All your friends are watching," the other man muttered, finally meeting Nick's eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"They're your friends too," Nick pointed out. David opened his mouth to reply or perhaps even argue, considering that was one of his specialties, but realized that Nick's words were absolutely true. All this time they'd been spending together, lunch and weekends and games that breeched the gap between the lab rats and the CSIs… it was because both groups wanted to be there. They loved it. That was the whole point.

And that felt good.

Nick grinned again. "So do I get to kiss you without you thinking too deeply about it?"

"Depends. Are you a good kisser?"

"Only one way for you find out."

Nick leaned in again, closing his eyes as he felt David relax and put his arms around Nick's neck. There were perks, Nick supposed, to being older, because the kiss wasn't awkward or weird. Their noses didn't collide like his first kiss at sixteen and they weren't fumbling around, trying to get the hang of things. It was just… them. Warm lips, shy tongues, and a catcall from Jacqui eight feet away.

"Ahem."

Even though he and Nick could have locked lips a few moments longer, Nick still broke away and glanced to his right. Greg was quirking an eyebrow at them.

"It's nice to see the sexual tension is breaking through, boys," he said, winking, "But there are innocent eyes here."

Natalie walked up to the blonde and poked him in the side with her elbow. "Please. Have you met my mother?" She then turned to Nick and David, both of whom were slightly embarrassed and very surprised, and grinned.

"You two just keep doing whatever it is you're doing. I'm gonna warm up with uncle Greg and see if I can beat him again."

"Whatever! You so did not make that goal last week!" he cried, turning to face her in protest.

"Oh yeah? Jacqui says I did!"

"That's because she's a woman. And women lie. It's inbred into their DNA."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"I can't believe they're actually arguing like that. Is Greg still twelve?" David muttered, and Nick snorted before dropping his head onto David's shoulder. David could feel his laughter.

"That's a distinct possibility," Nick replied, still laughing as he straightened his posture and removed his hands from David's waist. He gave an impish grin and took a few steps back. "Y'know, this may not be the best place for us to…"

David game a small smile of amusement. "Agreed. The arguing and various pairs of prying eyes kind of ruins the mood."

Nick grinned, gave David one quick kiss, and broke away, grabbing the soccer ball and tossing it so it hit Greg's forehead. It bounced off him and onto the ground, leaving Greg blinking and then glaring at his supposed best friend.

"Nick, c'mon, what's with the violence?"

"Just giving you a taste of what's to come, Greggo. Beating you like a drum and all."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," Bobby added. "Right after I mop David off the ground. I think he's melted into a love-struck puddle of mush."

David shot his friend a glare. "Dawson, I'll kick your ass if you ever say that again."

"What, 'love struck?'"

"I swear I'm going to punt you across the field."

"Punting's football. This is soccer."

Warrick gave a rumbling chuckle and sat back as parents and spectators began to gather. David and Nick sat together, and David would sneak a glance towards Nick before Nick caught his gaze. It was like a shy game although David Hodges was _not_ shy. However, like every human being, he was allowed to be slightly confused and pleasantly dazed.

As Nick took his hand, silently intertwining their fingers, he quietly thanked Natalie for April.

FIN.


End file.
